America's WHAT?
by ADozenWerds
Summary: In which America discusses many, MANY things, France and England attempt to strangle each other, Monaco strikes it rich, and Hungary is the victim of several nosebleeds. Basically, it's just another day in the world of Hetalia.
1. America's Elections

**EDIT 8/13/15: You may have notice that in the summary for this fic, it no longer says "Series of one-shots." This is because although you can read most of the chapters separately from the others without much confusion (unless it's one of the part 1/part 2-type chapters I have planned), the chapters sort of go together in some loose/vague/possibly-nonexistent plot, so they're NOT EXACTLY one-shots . . .**

 **Prussia: "Hey, quit rambling already and skip to the story! That's pretty unawesome of you, you know."**

 **Yeah, yeah. Let's do this!**

 **Summary: In which America discusses many, MANY things, France and England attempt to strangle each other, Monaco strikes it rich, and Hungary is the victim of several nosebleeds. Basically, it's just another day in the world of Hetalia.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Elections**

* * *

It was a typical World Meeting. China was venting to Panda over America's debt; Hungary was chatting with Liechtenstein, pointedly ignoring Switzerland's I'd-shoot-you-but-that-would-only-traumatize-my-little-sister-even-further glare as he reached for the gun strapped to his back; France and Britain were attempting to strangle each other near the door as other nations took bets on the winner.

A multitasking Russia was simultaneously thoroughly intimidating the Baltics with his purple aura and crushing Kumajiro and What's-His-Face's bones, not that anyone noticed . . . erm . . . whoever that guy is. Germany had briefly given up on restoring order and was busy facepalming in the corner while Italy tried to restore his spirits with offers of pasta, though paused to duck behind a chair and rapidly wave his white flag for the fifty-seventh time that morning when Russia turned and looked him in the eye.

Suddenly, the door opened near France and Britain as America—late as usual—and Japan—late as unusual—strode in.

". . . and he totally ignored me! I mean dude, what's up with that?"

"Wow America-san, your elections are always so interesting."

"You bet, bro!"

At this, the room abruptly froze over and turned to stare at the pair. Even France and Britain paused their quarreling—a few of the nations who had been betting on the outcome sighed/grumbled/sniffed/swore revenge as they reluctantly handed their money over to a smug-looking Monaco—and Switzerland had his hands over his sister's ears, his glare redirected to Japan.

"N-nani?" Japan sweatdropped, noticing the unnaturally quiet room, "What did I say?"

Really, though, it was less of _what_ he said than _how_ he said it. While Turkey, Greece, America, and the other Axis Powers had been with Japan long enough to understand what he meant, the rest failed to convert the "r" sound in his speech to the "l" in "elections", which meant . . . yeah. You understand?

Finally, Britain cleared his throat. "I, uh, did not realize that you paid attention to such things, Japan."

"Elections?" the confused nation asked, causing many of the others to wince and Switzerland's glare to further intensify, if that was even possible—he seemed to be seriously contemplating whether or not to forgo his neutrality. "It is true that I did not observe them as much before, but since America-san and I are 'bros', as he calls it, I have been seeing them much more recently. Still, I must say that I haven't quite gotten over the size and scale of those events."

"Yeah, we're big on that stuff," America agreed, remaining blissfully oblivious as the other nations gawked at him, surprised at the younger nation's openness on the subject. They knew he could be audacious at times, but this was just absurd.

Hungary, feeling a nosebleed induced by her yaoi mindset coming on, nudged Austria, who sighed internally but passed her a handful of tissues anyway, which she graciously accepted. Meanwhile, Britain asked himself where he went wrong with the boy; next to him, France, who was thinking along the same lines, silently cheered over how Angleterre was the more perverted of the two after all, if they were to go by young Amerique as evidence—after all, his ex-colony Canada didn't go on about . . .

He felt someone nudge him, and turned to see Hungary offering him some of her tissues. Wordlessly, he accepted, thinking how perhaps he should wait a little longer before giving Britain the official title of "More Creepy and Eerie and Pervy than Moi".

Seeing their expressions, Japan hastily added in an attempt to reassure them, "Do not worry, though, for I have been trying to keep up with the affairs of other nations as well."

Of course, this did nothing in helping alleviate their stupor.

"Excuse me, Japan, but I have not witnessed America having one of these . . . _events_ before," Hungary shamelessly cut in before anyone else could react; Austria stared at her in bewilderment, yet she continued, "so I was wondering if you could please elaborate."

"Sure I can. Really?"

"Dude, if it's about me, shouldn't I be the one to tell it? Plus, they usually put it on TV anyway—it's in the news and everything! If you're really so interested, you can probably just search it up."

Britain seemed to gag. "Are you saying it's on the _internet_?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing, Angleterre," France mused.

"Shut it, frog!"

"Well duh, of course it's on the internet," said America; while most of the nations seemed stunned at this, France and Hungary and probably be more accurately classified under "inappropriately enthusiastic". "Why wouldn't it be? After all, they only happen every four years."

And then the room erupted.

" _YEARS?_ "

"That seems to be quite a long time, comrade. Care to become one in the meantime?"

"Russia, that aura is creeping me out! Stop it, aru!"

"Sorry, my bad."

"It would also be helpful if you got off me . . . maple . . ."

"Years, mate? I'll tell you, I'm impressed."

"How the bloody hell does that even work?"

"Well, my bosses—"

"Ohonhonhon, so _that's_ what causes it?"

"Um, yeah."

"What? You git, you can't go around having those with . . . for _every_ boss!"

"Do you have more tissues, Austria?"

"Sorry, I'm all out. Wait, how did you find more so fast?"

"I have my ways."

"Dude, I already explained this to you two hundred years ago, chillax! It's just part of my procedure!"

"Really?" Britain's voice was laced with sarcasm now, "Since I can't seem to recall you telling me about _Florida's_ actions having anything to do with your bosses."

Switzerland abruptly stood from his chair, frowning. "That's it, I'm leaving. How fun. Liechtenstein?"

"Oh, but you can't leave early!" Hungary exclaimed, latching on to Liechtenstein with one hand while the other was still fruitlessly trying to stop her nosebleed with a wad of tissues. "It's just getting interesting!"

"There's no need to worry, Hungary. If something happens, you can still tell me later."

"No, you can't!" snapped Switzerland. "Now come along."

"What do you mean, 'Florida's actions'?" America frowned. "All my states get a say in it! I told you, we've gone over this—they're all vital to the democracy!"

It took a while for Britain to recompose himself at this, waving his arms in the air in frustration, "Y-you twat! How are _all_ of them vital regions?"

"Isn't it common knowledge, though?" Greece yawned, having finally woken up and petting a—wait, how did he sneak in a cat? Turkey gave the slightest nod in agreement, though refused to verbally acknowledge being on the same side as the sleepy nation.

Italy nodded as well. "Ve, I thought everybody knew, right Germany?"

"Ja."

"Are you saying you wankers were all in on this?"

"Mm, it's how America chooses his Presidents," said Greece, staring off into the distance.

"That's total bollocks! Everyone knows that the Presidents are chosen through elections, not er—"

The room fell silent.

" _Oh_."

* * *

 **A/N: First fic, whoo! Poor Japan, though . . . Anyhow, this fic is probably going to be a series of one-shots, as said in the summary. Hope you enjoy!**


	2. America's Fries

**A/N: The slang used in this chapter will be explained/clarified/insert-other-verb at the bottom of the page; you may skip to the bottom and read the notes on the slang first if that is your preference. In other news, CHAPTER 2 IS UP, GUYS! (Though you probably already guessed. ^J^)  
**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Fries**

* * *

"So all we have to do to stop Global Warming is build a giant stop sign!"

There was a collective facepalm at the World Meeting, while the nation at the front of the room beamed at them obliviously. Finally, Britain spoke up, "America, I don't think the concept of Global Warming is literate."

"Hmm?"

"He means it can't read, aru!"

"Then we'll just have to teach it! Plus, everyone has to obey the rules of the road, right?"

"Ja, but Global Warming doesn't drive, either . . ."

"Dude, weren't we just talking about how it's 'driving us up the wall'?"

"That's an idiom, you git! Do you have any plans that might _actually_ work?"

America's mouth curved into a thoughtful frown before he suddenly perked up and announced, "I've got it!"

"Will you tell it to us soon, comrade?"

" _We can give it Biggies as a peace offering!_ " he declared, grinning like mad.

Silence reigned. Britain was stone-faced; seeing this, France smirked and broke the quiet with "Amerique, I am already far ahead of you on that count, for I give _all_ my opponents woodies."

At this, Britain glared at the frog while Hungary failed to notice the blood seeping out of her nose until Austria passed her some tissues. Switzerland, deciding that he and his sister should just flee now, grabbed Liechtenstein's hand and escaped immediately.

Further perplexing the room, America, thinking about his theme parks, asked excitedly, "Really? So, if I we got into an epic battle, dude, could you give me woodies too? Most of mine are steel nowadays . . ."

"Oh, _mon cher_ ," France drawled, "you do not have to be my opponent to _scream my name_."

"No offense, but if I screamed while going on a ride, it would probably be less like ' _FRANCE_ ' and more like ' _WOOHOO_ '," America said, ignorant of the nature of France's comment. "Britain, on the other hand . . ."

Hungary and Japan nearly fainted right then and there from their identical massive yaoi-induced nosebleeds. France pouted at having been turned down, but instantly brightened when he was struck by a thought and put on a devious expression.

"Ohonhonhon, so _that's_ what you've been doing in your spare time, Angleterre!"

Britain gawped at this, though managed to squawk, "S-shut it, frog! W-weren't we t-talking about G-Global Warming?"

"Oh, yeah man, I totally forgot! Anyway, about the Biggies, I—Yes, Italy?"

"Ve, I think we should give them pasta!"

"Who says we can't give them _both_?" laughed America. Germany facepalmed.

"Mein Gott."

"What?" America asked. "It's a pretty awesome peace offering!"

Suddenly, the window shattered as the awesome Prussia awesomely swung in on an awesome rope while Gilbird fluttered in awesomely after him. To put it simply . . .

The World Meeting was nearly obliterated by the pure awesomeness that appeared before them.

With many pairs of eyes fixated on him, Prussia exclaimed, "My awesome senses are tingling! Someone in this building has used the—Wait, you guys, like, totally broke West . . . again! That's awesome!"

As soon as he said this, the door slammed open and Poland strode in with Lithuania in tow, gabbing, "I, like, totally heard someone talking in a totally fabulous way, so I'd totally like to know what you guys are, like, talking about, okay?"

Italy replied in his default answer while the rest of the World Meeting was still in the process of deciphering Poland's sentence. " _PAASTA_!"

"And Biggies!" added America, giving Poland a thumbs-up as Germany deliberately banged his head on the table and Russia let out a string of "kolkolkol"-ing.

"Oh, do you have one with you right now?" Prussia asked, "'Cause you know if you did, that would be awesome!"

" _Bruder_!" Germany snapped up in horror.

"What?" Prussia waved dismissively. "The awesome me is getting hungry—it's around lunch, anyway."

"Ve, I'd like something to eat too!"

" _ITALY_!"

"Ah! I'm sorry, Germany, I'm sorry!"

Poland, who got bored, sighed and left the room, dragging Lithuania with him in search of something more fabulous to do.

"No problem," America assured them, ignoring Italy's string of apologies, "I got some Biggies on my way here, bros!"

"Git, we didn't need to hear about that! I thought I already told you that what _Florida_ gets up to is of no concern to us!"

"Dude, we're in New York, but I get that you'd be jealous about my states, huh?" he chuckled, ducking under the table; scuffling sounds could be heard as the other nations' eyes widened. "Yeah, Wendy's can do that to you, though I prefer Mickey D's, but that's just my personal taste. But don't worry, I still have the Biggies. You guys can have some too, if you want."

" _W-WHAT?_ "

"This is uncharacteristically generous of you, da?"

"What's wrong with you, aru!"

"I'd like an extra-large serving, please! Ah, Germany, I said I'm sorry, _WAH_!"

"Hold on, folks, I think I've got it," said America, ignoring the various protests—"We don't want to _see_ it, aru!" and "Ohonhonhon, but I'll bet you do, Angleterre!" and "I-I don't! And as if you're one to talk, frog."—as he whipped out a handful of fries in triumph. " _TA-DA_!"

The World Meeting stared at him blankly.

Prussia was the first to speak as America passed him some of the food. "Kesesese, thanks, America! I see that my awesome training has paid off."

"You keep telling yourself that, bro."

"Ve," beamed Italy, accepting several fries as well, "It's not pasta, but it'll do!"

Other than that, though, an eerie quiet had come over the World Meeting. Finally, it was Britain who asked the question that was on everyone's minds.

"America, why are you passing out fries?"

"Not just any fries—they're _Biggie_ fries, duh!"

"Weren't they changed to 'medium' a while ago, though? Which is totally unawesome, by the way," Prussia remarked.

"Oh yeah," America laughed, "I guess I keep forgetting. It's kind of hard to think of these as anything other than 'Biggies', but maybe I'll get used to it eventually. Britain, are you sure you don't want any, bro?"

". . . I think I'm good."

"Really, Angleterre? _I_ think you're perver—"

The two nations were quick to engage in another quarrel, and once again, a delighted Monaco wound up knee-high in various currencies as a result of having won the bet on the outcome.

"One would think they'd know better than to bet against me by now . . ."

Canada, who was buried under the pile of money with Kumajiro, simply sighed, "Maple."

* * *

 **Notes on the Slang Used in this Chapter:**

 **"Biggie": In the American international fast food chain restaurant Wendy's, a "Biggie" was a fry size up until 2006 or so, when it was demoted to a "medium". I read that this word has some very different meanings in British slang, though . . . let's just say that "Biggie fries" did not really catch on across the pond. ^J^**

 **"Mickey D's": McDonald's, another American international fast food chain restaurant.**

 **"Woodies": May refer to a certain type of car (which no one is referring to), a wooden roller coaster (which America is referring to), or a . . . Japan, a little help here?**

 **Japan: "An election." (Which France is referring to, but America doesn't really get it.)**

 **Thank you, Japan—now I feel accomplished. Yay! Oh, wait, one more, though this one isn't exactly "slang":**

 **"Driving [someone] up the wall": Driving someone crazy/nuts, irritating or annoying [someone].**


	3. America's Honking

**A/N: So, here's your next chapter; I took "Series of one-shots" off of the summary because in future chapters, you might start to see a loose/vague/possibly-nonexistent plotline, so . . . yeah. Reasons, man! ^J^**

 **I was literally—yes, LITERALLY—freaking out when I saw how many views this has. You guys are awesome!**

 **Prussia: *bursts through door* "Hey, I heard you use the—wait, what's up with your floor?"**

 **Me: "Well, seeing all the views and stuff sort of made me spazz out in glee, so I think I have twin dents in the floor with Rosemary1234 . . ."**

 **Prussia: ". . . That's totally AWESOME!"**

 **Me: "Not for the floor!"**

 **Shout-outs to all of you reading this! Stay awesome, folks—your views, reviews, follows, favorites . . . you guys totally made my day! Actually, I'm probably going to be high on ecstasy for the rest of the week . . .**

 **Monaco: *faces crowd of nations* "As you may have heard, the author has launched into a fit of joy, hence I have won yet another bet. I shall now proceed to collect my earnings, which, if I remember correctly, amount to several trillion altogether . . ."**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

 **Oh, and once more, there will be notes on the slang at the bottom of the page. WOOT! So, without further ado, I am proud to present:**

* * *

 **America's Honking**

* * *

". . . and here are your rooms, dudes. Hope y'all will have fun staying at my place for a while! Any questions?"

Almost all the nations' hands shot up. America grinned.

"Well, that's what the Hero is for, so ask away, bros! Let's start with . . . Japan."

"If it is no trouble to you, America-san, I would like to know if there are any good restaurants that you would recommend."

"Oh! Well there's the Mickey D's over—"

"America, I think we'd prefer somewhere that does not serve burgers," Britain sighed.

America pouted. "But those are the only restaurants I've been to!"

Sweatdropping, Japan assured him, "Do not worry, we can just make dinner ourselves."

"Sorry about that, Japan. I'll make it up to you later, alright bro?"

"Hai."

Deciding to move on to the next question, America surveyed the small crowd again. "Okay. Uh, Britain, you had your hand up too, right?"

"Yes, I did. I noticed the lack of 'No Honking' signs as opposed to last time, and was wondering where they went," he said, pausing to think with a frown. "The fairies didn't steal them, did they?"

"I did not notice the lack of signs, though clearly, Angleterre, you are suffering from the lack of sanity if you still believe in those fairies of yours," France commented, sniffing a rose he had summoned via . . . however France summons them.

Thankfully, America cut in before they could launch into a full-fledged argument.

"Well, the signs were removed because they weren't exactly working and were contributing to 'visual clutter' or something, although some of my citizens were pretty mad about them being taken down," he chuckled, glancing briefly outside. "See, it's hard to tell if they had any effect because honking is so common here that I guess most people have grown used to it by now."

"Wait a tick, honking is _common_ over here?" Britain asked, appearing unexpectedly alarmed.

"It's New York City," Greece yawned; they knew better than to question how he managed to sneak a cat into the hotel, "What did you expect?"

"Perhaps Angleterre was expecting a night of l'amour, ohonhonhon!"

"Oh, go flirt with one of the sewers, frog."

France pouted. "Aw, but I already did that! You're no fun. Actually, that might explain why you're the—"

"Don't you dare!"

Of course, France ignored him and started chanting "black sheep of Europe", repeating it an impressive three times before Britain began his attempts to strangle the other nation, causing his cries to briefly change to "Not the rose, not the rose!", although soon he was strangling Britain right back.

"Nice going, Greece," Turkey said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched Monaco start taking bets already, "who knows how long their fight is going to last this time?"

"Mm, but is it where we are going, or where we come from that matters?" Greece asked, staring contemplatively at the cars outside. "Perhaps it is where we are . . ."

"Great, he's gone into his philosophical mode again. I thought he grew out of it already!" he sighed. "Does anybody know where we can find some water?"

Austria sniffed. "Well, I don't care. Hungary and I going to Carnegie Hall to appreciate music that isn't played on synthesizers."

"And the awesome me will be accompanying you!" Prussia announced, popping up between Austria and Hungary. When he saw Austria's shocked expression, he shrugged, "What? I'd like to hear some awesome broom music while I'm there."

Hungary, smelling a yaoi-induced nosebleed in the future, smiled sweetly and nudged Austria, "We better let him. After all, we won't be able to convince him otherwise."

Reluctantly, Austria seemed to agree.

"Wow, I'm not being assaulted by a frying pan for once? Awesome!" Prussia cackled, slinging his arms across Austria and Hungary's shoulders.

"There are too many witnesses," Hungary shrugged; her smile suddenly turned menacing, "But I wouldn't push it if I were you."

"I'm too awesome _not_ to push it!" he replied dismissively. "Now come on, let's go."

Meanwhile, America finally decided to interrupt France and Britain's argument—wads of cash were immediately presented before Monaco, seeing how her prediction came true, which she accepted with a satisfied smirk—upon remembering that, despite how entertaining their bickering was, he was looking forward to giving them a quick tour of some of his favorite spots of the city before dark.

Popping up between them, he exclaimed, "Dudes, break it up! We still have to go sightseeing!"

" _What_?" Britain asked in disbelief. "You git! This is a new suit—I don't want a honking crowd of citizens to ruin it!"

"Are you, like, kidding me?" exclaimed Poland, who was wearing a pink trench coat; he twirled around in it to give them a good view, " _Clothes_ are, like, totally why we should be out there, like, right now! America, you have to show us, like, where all the boutiques are. I totally have to find a pair of heels to go with this coat! Isn't it fabulous?"

"Yeah, Poland's right!" America agreed. "Plus, the honking's not _that_ bad. I mean sure, it's everywhere, but like I said, you'll get used to it, bro."

"' _Used to it_ '?" Britain near-shouted, "You're telling me that your people are _honking_ all over the city we're staying at, and you expect me to get _used_ to it?"

"Chillax, man! It's not like they _like_ having traffic!"

"Well excuse me, you twat, if I don't want one of your citizens hacking up their bloody lunch all over me!"

France sighed dramatically. "That imagery, Angleterre . . . you are a very twisted one indeed."

"Wait, what's this about hacking up their lunches?" America frowned. "Is it something serious?"

"You git! If you had to put up signs for it, then obviously it's a problem—you even charge a bloody three-hundred-fifty-dollar _fine_ for it."

"Bro, are we still talking about the three-hundred-fifty-dollar fine for honking cars that was made in an effort to cut down on noise in the city?" America wondered. "I mean, I know that some of my citizens didn't like them being taken down, but I had no idea that you cared so much about it, dude."

Britain broke off from his rant to let America's words sink in. A fine for honking . . . _cars_. Not vomiting. Oh . . .

" _YOU GIT_!"

* * *

 **Notes on the Slang Used in this Chapter:**

 **"Mickey D's": McDonald's, an American international fast food chain restaurant.**

 **"Honking": British slang for "vomiting", also known as "puking", "spilling your guts out" . . . you get the picture. It also refers to the sound a car horn makes (which America is referring to) and the sound a goose makes (which none of them are referring to), among other things. In New York City, there were apparently "No Honking" signs put up at some point in an effort to decrease the noise level, and unnecessary honking could result in a $350 fine, though few of these fines were actually given out. The signs were eventually taken down in 2013 or so.**

 **"Wait a Tick": "wait a second", "wait a minute", "wait, what?", "hang on" . . . the like.**

 **"Broom Music": The awesomest genre of music, one of Prussia's many specialties.**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, you got that right!"**

 **Japan: ". . . Moving along . . ."**

 **"Yaoi": A type of boys' love.**

 **"Chillax": "chill out", "calm down", "Dude, don't get all worked up on me, okay?"**

 **The next chapter is split into two parts. I'll give you a few hints about what it's about: more Monaco, more line breaks, and more misinterpretations!**


	4. America's Car: Part 1

**A/N: Ta-da!** **Once more, there will be notes at the bottom, but this time it will also have to do with parts of the chapter that aren't slang, so . . . ^J^**

 **But I'm pretty hyped for you guys to see this chapter, which comes in multiple parts (*cough*two*cough*). Stay awes—**

 **Germany: "Don't say it! Do you have any idea how much it cost to replace the windows the last time he swung in?"**

 **Me: "Like . . . on a rope?"**

 **Germany: "Ja. It was difficult getting the glass out of the carpet, too . . ."**

 **. . . Okay then. Stay fabulous!**

 **Poland: *pops in* "Like, totally!"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Car: Part 1**

* * *

"Okay dudes, so now that we're all settled in, I wrote down an awesome list of things to do while we're in NYC. Check it out!" America announced, unfolding the piece of paper he was clutching and reading out loud: "'Note to self—write down awesome list of things to do in NYC.' Huh."

The other nations stiffened, glancing warily at the windows in case a certain awesome nation planned to make an entrance. Meanwhile, at Carnegie Hall . . .

* * *

"Prussia? Why are you suddenly awake?" Austria asked when his companion bolted upright in his chair—Prussia had been sleeping throughout most of the previous hour when he discovered the lack of broom music, to his chagrin.

Prussia grinned. "I simply heard the call of awesomeness."

"Does it sound like classical music?" wondered Austria, feeling a dash of hope . . .

"Nein! Not even close, kesesese!" he cackled, and the aforementioned dash was dashed. Then his eyes widened in panic. "Wait, who let you bring th—"

He was cut off by a frying pan colliding with his face. The pianist performing on the stage didn't even blink at the sudden noise, and if the audience did, they decided to ignore it. Austria glanced at a satisfied-looking Hungary. "I thought you said there were too many witnesses."

"It's a habit. Now, I'm going to leave before they haul me out . . ."

Both statements were only partially true, but thankfully, Austria didn't notice.

* * *

Back at the hotel, America stuffed the paper back into his pocket. "Well, that's no problem! We can just split up and cover more ground that way, then."

"That idea's great!" Poland chirped, grabbing Lithuania's arm and running out the door. "Come on, Liet, we have to go on another shopping spree, like, now!"

"What? I don't think that's right!" China exclaimed, then immediately remembered what happened the last time he said that and decided, "I think I'll just stay here, aru."

"I know you have your doubts, but whatevs bros, we can do this! USDA!" America fist-pumped. Before anyone else could object, he continued, "Anyway, I have this woodie that I'm super hyped about showing you guys. You can ride it if you want, as long as I'm the one behind the wheel because I'm the Hero!"

The nations stood in shocked silence—which was becoming a habit, by the way; no lie this time—as America continued rambling about the woodie he couldn't wait for them to see. Well, Canada was more embarrassed on his brother's behalf than shocked, Japan was keeping quiet more out of courtesy than secondhand embarrassment, and France was more attentive than usual in a totally creepy manner, so yeah . . . they were more or less "shocked" but unvaryingly "silent".

When a minute passed and no one responded, America finally paused his monologue and asked, "Dudes, you listening?"

France quickly wiped off his nosebleed on someone else's sleeve—his own were too glamorous to ruin, after all—and said, "Of course, Amerique, though I must know if I am correct in assuming that it is not rollercoasters that you speak of this time?"

"Ha! As if I'd be able to fit a rollercoaster in this part of the city," the younger nation chuckled, pulling his glasses forward a bit so that he could dab at his eyes. "Naw. Like I said, this is a good, old-fashioned woodie—you don't see so many around anymore, but I found one at an auction and now it looks good as new! It's a bit slower than other cars, but Japan helped me tweak it so it's a hybrid. So, you ready to take a cruise in it or what?"

". . . Oh. It's a car," France pouted, shuffling away dejectedly to go sulk in a corner.

Britain, who appeared more relieved than frustrated at this point—hey, at least this time the conversation didn't escalate as much as the others—stepped forward and said, "A vintage car, you say? Well, I suppose I could go for a ride . . ."

"I'd like to come as well, America-san," Japan agreed, "I have not seen the car in a while."

Eventually, France returned from the corner of the room and decided that he wanted to accompany them, too, though mostly because he had realized that it would be yet another opportunity to annoy Britain. Seeing this, Monaco whispered something to China and Australia, and after a confidential conversation, Monaco and Australia decided that they wanted to go as well. China still insisted on staying behind.

Italy decided he wanted to go as well because Japan was going; Germany decided to attend in order to make sure Italy didn't wind up in trouble; Romano decided to make sure the potato bastard stayed at least an arm's length away from his brother, so he agreed to come too; Spain decided to follow Romano because, well, they're Spain and Romano.

"See, Japan? I told you getting one that seats eleven was a good idea!" America beamed proudly. "We even have one extra."

"Hai, but isn't it usually hard to find a good parking space because of the length of the car?"

"Yeah, I hear you, bro. But we'll worry about that later, okay?" he laughed as he ran out the door. "Now, let's get moving, guys!"

* * *

"Wow, this car is really nice, isn't it, Romano?" Spain sighed dreamily.

Romano harrumphed. Clambering inside the vehicle, his brother nodded enthusiastically, "Ve, I want to sit next to Germany!"

"What? No, no," he shook his head, plopping himself down in the middle seat between Germany and Italy, "There's no way I'm letting you sit next to the potato bastard, got it?"

Monaco turned to Australia, "As you may have noticed, we are sitting in a row with Spain. So, you and China have already owe me quite a sum of money, eh?"

Australia facepalmed, already regretting having taken the series of bets regarding their ride in America's car. "Oi, mate, how _do_ you do that?"

Monaco gave a small smile. "I have experience."

"Why is it that _I'm_ the one left with the frog?" Britain groaned from the back seat.

"Ohonhonhon, it's because you must've won the lottery, Angleterre!" France smirked—for the record, though, it was because Britain was the least likely to be groped by France, not that any of the other nations in the car would admit it aloud. "Not bad for the black sheep of Europe."

Britain cast him a dark look. " _What did you just call me_?"

"Belt up, Britain!" America called from the front seat, "We're about to move!"

"You git! Don't you know it's dangerous to move the car when one of your passengers are unbuckled?" Britain snapped, swiftly buckling his seatbelt, "And since when did you have the right to tell me what to do?"

"If you're so mad about it, dude, why'd you agree to come?" America asked, frowning as he left the parking spot. "I'm the Hero, so I'm not going to let any of you get hurt on my watch, whether you like it or not!"

"Belting up has _nothing_ to do with safety on the road!" Britain shouted, causing the other nations—minus America, who was used to loud volumes—to wince at the noise.

"Well, that's only if you neglect the fact that belting up has _everything_ to do with staying safe!" America replied.

" _I_ prefer it when the belts are completely off . . . and the pants, too . . ." said France wistfully.

"Shut it, France!" exclaimed America, while Britain fumed, "Belt up, frog!"

"He _is_ buckled!" America said. "Plus, how come you can say it to France in an argument but I can't tell you to 'belt up' when it's _for your own good_?"

"Calm down, there is no need to fight," Japan tried to soothe them to no avail.

"'For my own good', you say?" Britain spat, disregarding Japan's comment. Sighing softly, Japan turned on his phone and began to scroll through his text messages. "I don't see how shutting my bloody mouth is going to do me any good out here on the road, you twat!"

"That's because I'm not telling you to shut up, I'm _trying_ to make sure you keep your seatbelt buckled so you don't go flying out the window!"

Britain was silent for a moment before managing to ask, "How is it that since arriving at the hotel, we have already had _two_ arguments because of how you've botched up my language?"

Nudging Australia again, Monaco reminded him quietly, "France and Britain launched into an argument and were interrupted by America, who immediately wound up in an argument with Britain due to differences in slang. Japan tried and failed to end it, though the argument eventually ceased when Britain realized his error. I believe that's another two bets you and China have lost."

"It seems like your predictions are holding up after all," Australia noted. "Nice job, mate."

"Merci beaucoup, Australia."

He grinned in response, but when he turned to stroke his koala, Australia couldn't help but think that if Monaco kept winning their bets at this pace, it was going to be a _very_ long ride.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **"USDA": May be referring to the hip-hop group also known as the "United Streets Dopeboyz of America", the US Department of Agriculture, which also uses it as an acronym, or perhaps the "United States Dumbledore Army" (which is one of the definitions listed in Urban Dictionary). Either way, it's an acronym.**

 **Britain: "Wait at tick, what's this about a Dumbledore Army at your place?"**

 **America: "Jealous?"**

 **"Woodie": See notes at the bottom of "America's Fries" (Chapter 2). Referring to the car, "The appearance was largely an American car feature, as European and Asian car manufacturers rarely offered it" according to the Wikipedia article "Woodie (car body style)".**

 **"Belt up": May be used to tell someone to buckle up their seatbelt or to "shut up", though the latter may be more often used in Britain and may be considered rude . . .**

 **Carnegie Hall is a prestigious concert venue in New York City. However, Prussia was let down by the lack of broom music, so . . .**

 **There's this chart of the ten countries with the highest gambling losses of 2013. The USA came in first, losing about $119 billion, which is more than triple any of the other countries' losses except for China's, who came in second with losses worth about $76 billion, but America can't exactly be betting against Monaco if he's one of the things they're betting _on_ ; same goes with Japan and Britain, who came in third and fifth place respectively. Italy came in fourth, but he's there for the ride, so I'm not sure if he'd be in the right mood for gambling. Australia came in sixth, so yeah, they're going to have a little fun, though I bet you can guess how this is going to turn out for them, considering who they're up against.**


	5. America's Car: Part 2

**A/N: This chapter is somewhat shorter than the others, but . . . yeah, I can't really think of an excuse.**

 **Russia: "Who need an excuse when you have a magic metal—"**

 **Me: "Russia! We do _NOT_ have to freak everyone out, okay?"**

 **Russia: "Whatever you say, comrade." ^J^**

 **There aren't that many notes, either, and the next chapter is going to be pretty short as well, but . . . uh . . . where was I going with this?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Car: Part 2**

* * *

Looking up from his phone, Japan gestured out the window with his free hand and asked, "America-san, can you make a stop over there at that next intersection?"

"Hmm? Sure, bro, I owe you one," America complied.

At the word "owe", Australia cringed and Monaco looked the other way, hiding a smile.

"Thank you, America-san," Japan nodded.

As America slowed down the car, he noticed a familiar person waving to them from the intersection Japan had indicated. "Hey, is that Hungary?"

"Bollocks!" Britain exclaimed; America stepped down on the brakes as Britain suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped into the row in front of him where Spain, Monaco, and Australia were seated. "That woman is always on my case . . . who knows what she'll do if she sees me sitting alone with the bloody frog, and in the _back_ seat, of all places . . ."

"Get your hands off of the tomato bastard, you bastard!" Romano shouted as Britain grabbed Spain by the shoulders. Ignoring his protests, Britain hastily shoved Spain into the back seat with France. Horrified, he snapped, "Why're you leaving him with _that_ bloody pervert, dammit?"

"Ouch, that was very painful!" Spain said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Dude, what're you doing?" America asked as Britain buckled himself up again.

"Sorry, Spain, but you'll see why this is necessary due to Hungar—" Britain's reply was cut short when Hungary herself opened a door to the back row and stepped in.

"Thanks, Japan," she said as she slid in next to France.

"Hungary!" Italy piped up, "I thought you and Austria went to a concert with Prussia!"

"Don't worry," Hungary assured him, sighing with a faraway look in her eyes, "I knocked out Prussia with my frying pan and left him and Austria there together."

Wait. What?

"Were you able to successfully plant the camera, Hungary-san?" Japan asked before any of the other nations could cut in.

"Of course, Japan."

"Arigato. I shall proceed to tap into it, then."

Glancing at his friend, America asked, "Wait, dude, why would you put a camera in one of my concert halls with Prussia and Austria?"

"To capture any boys' love action that goes on while I'm gone, of course," Hungary smiled sweetly. "Without me at Carnegie Hall, the two of them will be lulled into a false sense of privacy despite being surrounded by who knows how many people, and _that_ is what we'll be monitoring, because when they think we're not watching . . ." She received a nosebleed just _thinking_ about it.

". . . I think I forgive you now," Spain admitted to Britain, thankful that at least France was seated between him and Hungary.

"No way," Romano growled. "You left the tomato bastard with _two_ total creeps, you bastard!"

Before he could launch into a full-on rant, however, Romano was interrupted by the sound of a recording device being stopped. Replaying his previous statement on the device, Hungary fangirled, " _YES_! Finally, we've caught some Spamano on tape!"

"Nice work, Hungary-san."

Romano facepalmed. ". . . I don't really blame you anymore either, but for the record, you're still a bastard."

"Hungary left Carnegie Hall early and joined us on the ride," Monaco went over with Australia, "That's two more, which adds up to five bets, eh? Additionally, her presence caused Britain to switch seats and she mentioned boys' love within five minutes of entering, hence I have won seven so far."

"I know," Australia sighed.

"Hmm, I think it's about time to turn back to the hotel," America said, noticing how the sky was beginning to darken outside.

"Ve, America," Italy called, "may I have a turn at the wheel?"

At this, both Germany and Japan looked up in horror. But before they could protest, America sealed their fate with "Of course, bro! C'mon, we can switch seats."

"Yay!" beamed Italy as America stepped out of the car, sprinting to the wheel with a level of speed that took centuries of art, pasta, and hasty retreats to achieve. Germany and Japan braced themselves . . . "Let's go!"

Suddenly, the car was blasting through traffic, its passengers clinging desperately to the seats. They could hear barely anything besides than their screams as Italy grinned, zooming through the streets of New York City.

Still standing in the middle of the road, America pouted, "Aw, man. That looks like fun!" Stepping onto the sidewalk, he shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked after the car. "Oh, well—guess I'll be walking."

" _I-ITALY TOOK THE WHEEL AND DROVE OFF WITHOUT AMERICA_ ," Monaco yelped from inside the car. " _THAT MAKES EIGHT_!"

By the time they arrived back at the hotel, Australia and China owed Monaco several hundred million dollars altogether.

"At least it's way less than what America still owes me, aru," China sighed when Australia and Monaco told him the news.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **"Back Seat": Apparently the area of the car where people are overwhelmed by l'amour/UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension)—according to Urban Dictionary, of course.**

 **On a related note, it turns out the France isn't the only nation who likes to deal with l'amour . . . *cough*Hungary and Japan*cough***

 **. . . And yes, America kind of owes China quite a sum of money.**

 **China: "It's true!"**

 **America: "Yeah, about that, dude . . ."**

 **Anyway, the next chapter is also on the shorter end of the spectrum so far, but the one after that should be longer, I think. Prussia, anything to add?**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome! Kesesese!"**


	6. America's Whale

**A/N: Society, I'm back! Sorry if this update took a while—I was stuck in the great woodlands with . . . drumroll please . . .**

 **NO. WIFI. That is, zero. Zilch. Nada.**

 **[MALE ESTONIAN B]: "Agh! Such horror!"**

 **. . . So. That happened. Anyhow, I'll probably be updating a bit more frequently for the next few days to make up for the loss, so stay tuned! As usual, there will be notes on the chapter at the bottom of the page.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Whale**

* * *

Being brothers, America and Canada had agreed to share a room during the nations' stay in New York City. However, they seemed to have very different opinions on what to eat for dinner.

"But dude, why _not_ burgers?" America asked for the umpteenth time, pouting.

"The same reason that we're not having poutine."

". . . I thought we agreed that it's because the nearest poutine place is across the border."

"No, it's because _you_ weren't in the mood for it" Canada sighed, exasperated at his brother, "so we said we'd keep coming up with ideas until we found something we both agree on!"

Kumajiro looked up from Canada's lap. "Who're you?"

"I'm Canada, Kumachiki!"

"Whatever you say, bro," America said, not having paid attention to the exchange between Canada and his bear. "Any other ideas, then?"

"Well, I could go for some whale tails about now . . ."

America's eyes widened. Then he laughed. "Ha, sorry dude, could you say that again? For a second there I thought you said you wanted to eat some 'whale tails'."

"Yeah, whale tails," Canada shrugged indifferently. "A lot of people have them at my pla—America, where are you going?"

"To check on my pet whale. Like, duh!"

Canada was gobsmacked. ". . . You have a pet whale?"

"Darn it! I forgot you didn't know about that," America groaned, facepalming. Suddenly, he grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "Canadia, you have to promise me you won't eat my pet whale!"

"W-what?" The quiet nation was too surprised to correct America's mispronunciation of his name.

"I mean, you're probably used to eating them and all that by now, so my whale might not seem so different from the rest, but you have to promise not to eat mine because you and me and bros and I'm also bros with the whale and so if one of you eats the other, then that's probably some serious violation of the Bro Code and—"

"America, I'm not going to eat your pet!"

"Really?" America asked, loosening his hold on Canada. Breaking into a grin, he said, "Thanks, man! Wait, but you didn't say anything about all the other whales out there . . . which means since I'm the Hero, it's my job to—"

"Um, America," Canada tentatively intervened, "I'm sorry for interrupting, but you _do_ realize that 'whale tails' is another name for fried dough pastries, right?"

America paused for a moment to let it sink in before beaming and exclaiming with such volume that Canada nearly jumped, "What a relief! Man, I was so prepared to go across the border and talk to your boss about the whales . . . but now I don't have to, so that's great!"

"We also call them 'beaver tails' and 'elephant ears'," Canada offered, "though I don't really feel like eating them anymore after hearing you go on about your pet whale. I think I might have to have a mickey o—"

"I'm on it, bro!" America declared, his record-breaking sprint out the door fueled by the thought of fast food. Halfway down the stairs, he shouted, "That Mickey D's won't buy itself!"

Turning to Kumajiro, Canada sighed, "I don't think he realizes I was talking about a mickey of vodka . . ."

A sudden chill swept through the room, and Canada looked up to see Russia towering over him with an ominous smile plastered across his face. "You called for vodka, da?"

"M-maple . . ."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **So, Kumajiro keeps asking for Canada's name, Canada keeps getting Kumajiro's name wrong, and apparently America remembers Canada slightly more often than some of the other nations, though he still seems to get his brother's name wrong sometimes . . .**

 **America: "Well, why're there _Canadians_ if it's not _Canadia_?"**

 **Canada: *turns to mob of angry fans* ". . . Sic 'em."**

 **America: *gets tub of syrup poured over his head* "Dude, free syrup! Wait, this is going to take so long to wash out . . ."**

 **"Whale Tails"/"Beaver Tails"/"Elephant Ears": Alternative names for fried dough pastries in Canadian slang or, alternatively, referring to the actual respective animals' body parts. Depends on context. (Well, doesn't everything? ^J^)**

 **"Mickey": A 375 milliliter bottle of liquor, mainly a Canadian term.**

 **"Mickey D's": An international Ameri— You know what? Too many adjectives. See "America's Fries" (Chapter 2) or "America's Honking" (Chapter 3) for definition.**

 **"The Bro Code": An awesome set of rules of American origin that a Bro must abide by. Yes, even if you are already legen—wait for it— _dary_. Legendary! Typically, an article from the Bro Code is posted at the end of each _How I Met Your Mother_ episode. If you take an oath on the Bro Code, then you have made a Broath. You're welcome. Also, in my headcanon, the Awesome Trio—and possibly the Bad Touch Trio—try to obey the Bro Code. The key word is " _try_ ".**

 **Prussia: "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"**

 **. . . You'll see. And don't worry, you might see some more Canadian slang in the future. Stay awesome!**


	7. America's Wand

**A/N: . . . I keep listening to Britain's "Hatafutte Parade" on loop. I think I might have a problem.**

 **Britain: "What do you mean, 'a _problem_ '?"**

 **Japan: ". . . Moving along."**

 **Britain: "Hey! I'm not done yet, you wankers!"**

 **Anyhow, your reviews made me grin. I had no idea that the names extended so far south! That's so awesome!**

 **Prussia: *swings in* "The awesome me has been summoned! Kesesese!"**

 **Me: *facepalm* "I really have to stop doing that . . ."**

 **Prussia: "What? Is my awesomeness too much for you? Ke— Wait, what's that above your head?"**

 **Me: *deadpan* "I live under a boulder."**

 **Prussia: "Oh. Okay then. Gilbird, let's head out of here!" *swings back out***

 **So, this chapter is longer than the previous two, as promised! Notes will be at the bottom, but they might also be a bit longer because, well . . . you'll see. ^J^**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers**

* * *

 **America's Wand**

* * *

As expected, this World Meeting was about as productive as the previous one—that is to say, the nations made virtually no progress whatsoever. Poland was talking excitedly about his latest outfit with Lithuania, who nodded along politely, Hungary, who cooed over how cute it was, and Liechtenstein, who tried not to be too worried by her brother's pensive expression as she listened to Poland's monologue. Nearby, Austria was facepalming as he endured Prussia's broom solo, which he was forced against his will to wat— _AHEM_ , which he _chose_ to watch because it was _that_ awesome.

France wandered around the room flirting with anything that moved . . . but eventually unwittingly used a pick-up line on Russia and was inevitably at least briefly traumatized by the experience that followed. Meanwhile, America and Britain were engrossed in a series of Harry Potter-related quizzes on America's laptop. For a change, France and Britain had so far made no attempt to suffocate each other, which, unsurprisingly, Monaco had been betting on. If neither of them made a move against the other until break time, she would be r—

" _THAT'S IT, I'M CALLING A BREAK_!" Germany announced, having finally snapped. He stormed out of the room in frustration, Italy following close behind him with the intent of cheering him up.

Once again, Monaco found herself grinning in a mountain-load of cash, though this one was substantially larger than the others—it was rare that France and Britain lasted until break without one assaulting the other at least once. She was thankful that there would be enough time for her to count and organize the money while the other nations recollected themselves. For now, though, she would settle for stuffing it all in her briefcase and grabbing a snack.

Soon, the only nations left in the meeting room were America and Britain, who were still absorbed with the laptop, and France, who was curled up under the table trying to calm down from the horrors he had witnessed with Russia. He was about to come out when he realized that America and Britain were in the middle of a conversation.

"So, that's your wand, huh?"

"It is indeed." France could hear the smirk in Angleterre's voice. _Are they saying what I think they're saying . . . ?_ "Jealous yet?"

America snorted. "Well, your wand's okay and all that, but mine's longer, so . . ."

"You twat! It's only a bloody inch!"

"A 'bloody inch' _longer_!"

 _Is that so, Amerique?_ France mused from his position out of their line of sight, deciding that he might as well listen to the rest of their conversation. _Ohonhonhon, this is proving to be very interesting indeed . . ._

When he realized that his nosebleed was staining the carpet, he cursed internally and quietly began to crawl toward Austria and Hungary's seats, hoping that they'd left behind some tissues he could use.

Britain fumed. "At least my wand is respectable _and_ reliable! If you cannot recall, it's made of silver lime, which serves the practitioners of several mysterious arts well, giving me considerable status as the possessor of such a wand!"

 _Ah, so is that what he calls his nights in bed?_ France mentally made a note of it for potential blackmail material.

"You might also have it because you're a limey," America pointed out.

"Says the one who has bloody _English_ oak for a wand!"

"Dude, my wand's English oak because I'm strong, courageous, and _committed_ —plus, that makes me the King of the Forest!"

"Just because your _wand_ wood is King of the Forest for half the year doesn't give you right to that title, you git! Plus, aren't you a democracy?"

"A democracy with a wand longer than yours, bro!"

". . . You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

America grinned cheekily. "Nope. But other than that, my wand is also pretty rare. I mean, a thestral hair core? You don't see those every day."

"I suppose not, though it isn't as reliable as unicorn hair . . ."

 _Since when did the conversation switch to hair?_ France wondered, slowly nearing Hungary's chair. The process was slower than necessary because he was making extra efforts to not alert the pair of his presence. _Well, my hair is the best, of course._

"Hey, I'm a Gryffindor, remember?" he asked, elbowing the older nation. "I'm pretty sure my wand and I can be friends, dude, even if it's not unicorn hair."

"Speaking of unicorns, how've you been treating the one I gave you?"

 _Ah, Angleterre, delirious as usual . . . oh look, there's Hungary's purse._

"Well, I can't see him . . . her . . . _them_ ," America admitted; it was hard deciding which pronoun to use when referring to the invisible creature, "but I think they're alri—"

" _OW_!" exclaimed France, spooking the other nations in the room when a strange contraption—as in a spring-loaded boxing glove holding a frying pan—suddenly sprung out of Hungary's bag, whacking him right in the face. Clutching his nose, he wondered, "What kind of woman keeps _that_ in her purse?"

" _AH, IT'S A GHOST!_ " America shrieked, panicking immediately and clinging on to Britain's arm. " _I can't handle this it's-too-much-pressure-someone-save-me-there-are-so-many-things-I-haven't-done-yet-HELP!_ "

"Let go of my arm, you git, before you break it!" Britain yelped, trying to pry his arm out of America's superhuman grip. "And it's not a ghost, it's a bloody _frog_ that's in the room with us."

"You mean France?" America wondered, abruptly releasing Britain's arm and diving under the table in search of said nation. When he appeared again, he was suspending France upside-down, holding the eavesdropping nation by his ankle. Scrutinizing him, America agreed, "Yeah, that's definitely France."

"Okay, now will you please let go of me because this is not very dignified and you're freaking me— _OOF_!" France sat up from where America had dropped him, as requested. Sniffing, he said, "Well, you could've been more careful. Do you have any idea how long it takes for me to do my hair? For I assure you, mon cher, that this level of beauty takes work and effort to maintain."

"Dude, you're the one who wanted me to let go!"

"That's beside the point," Britain interrupted with a huff, ignoring America's pout. "Why were you spying on us, frog?"

"I heard the two of you discussing wands, Angleterre. What else would you expect me to do?"

"Really, bro? I had no idea you were into Harry Potter!" said America enthusiastically. France blinked, their previous conversation gradually making more—or less—sense. "Okay, so Britain's wand is twelve inches long, but mine is thirteen, so you can take that as your cue to tell him that mine's better because it so obviously is!"

"Is that so, you twat?" Britain asked, not one to sit around while America boasted about his wand. "Since mine is silver lime, which I believe is a more respectable wood than bloody _English oak_."

America paused for a moment before saying pointedly, "You realize that you're putting down your own tree, right?"

France watched in mild amusement as Britain and America launched into another argument, smiling slightly. Hungary would want to be hearing about this—and perhaps he'd ask about her purse as well . . .

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Ah, Switzerland—still debating on whether or not to forgo neutrality, I see.**

 **Switzerland: "It's not my fault that superpowers are always super jerks! How fun."**

 **Liechtenstein: "It's alright, Big Bruder. We can have a picnic later!"**

 **"Harry Potter": A wizard. A series. A . . . uh . . . search it up if you want. There are several Hetalia fics out there related to this, whether it's Pottertalia, various references, or other things . . . man, I'm really failing at explaining this, aren't I?**

 **Britain: "Yes, yes you are."**

 **Me: "Hey!"**

 **"English Oak [Wand Wood]": Wands made of this wood require partners of great strength, courage, and fidelity, according to the Wiki page. (Yeah, I kind of used Wikipedia for both of the wand woods that they talk about . . .) Wizards who possess wands of this wood usually have a strong intuition and an affinity with the magic of the natural world . . . . It is the "King of the Forest" from the winter solstice to the summer solstice.**

 **"Silver Lime [Wand Wood]": Works well with Seers and practitioners of Legilimency, the "mysterious arts" Britain was referring to . . . or was it really something else he was talking about?**

 **Britain: *restrained by Japan* "Unhand me, Japan! Oh, and you— You're just as bad as the frog!"**

 **Me: "I know!" ^J^**

 **Russia: *wielding Magic Metal Pipe of Pain* "You called?"**

 **Me: "Nah, we're just about to continue the notes."**

 **"Limey": North American slang for a British person, though I haven't heard this used before in matters that are irrelevant to Hetalia . . .**

 **Liechtenstein: "Oh, do you have a border of neutrality, too?"**

 **Me: "Nope, just a boulder."**

 **"Thestral Hair [Wand Core]": A powerful wand core, though not really a common one. The Elder Wand has a core of thestral hair.**

 **"Unicorn Hair [Wand Core]": A reliable, consistent wand that can form a strong bond with the owner.**

 **"Gryffindor": A House of Hogwarts that emphasizes bravery, chivalry, justice, etc. (pretty much everything you'd expect a medieval knight to abide by) and has had a long rivalry with Slytherin, another House. However, this does not mean that they're actually brave, chivalrous, just, etc. all the time, as some Gryffindors may also be considered prone to "pointless heroics" and/or arrogant. (Again, going by Wikipedia on this because, well, why not?)**

 **Huh. Those notes were pretty long.**

 **Britain: "That's because you kept taking breaks to—MWAFLEHAUGH!"**

 **Me: *turns to Japan* "Why didn't you muffle him earlier?"**

 **Japan: ". . . That wasn't me."**

 **Prussia: *swings in . . . again* "Stay awesome! Kesesese!"**


	8. America's a Messenger?

**A/N: So, this chapter may/may not have some ship tease in it, depending on how you look at it. It's being posted earlier than usual, but hey, why not? I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!**

 **Canada: "Well, don't go and grow a big ego, eh? America's already got that covered . . ."**

 **America: *turns around wielding chainsaw* "Huh?"**

 **Canada: *rapidly backpedaling* "Uh, nothing! We're the best of buddies, right? Yeah, of course we are! Definitely!"**

 **America: "No, I mean I really didn't hear a . . . you know what, dude? Just forget it. You wanna grab some Mickey D's or what?"**

 **More notes are at the bottom. Prussia?**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, stay awesome!"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's a Messenger?**

* * *

During the break Germany had called due to the usual reasons—his Bruder's broom solos had turned into a duet with Italy about beer and pasta, which was very . . . _distracting_ , to say the least; the Chinatown China had constructed in the meeting room brought out firecrackers, which were set off during the duet's big finale; Monaco was earning a ton of money due to her uncanny ability to apparently see into the future; that is, to name a few—France met up with Spain and Prussia near the water fountain.

"What took you so unawesomely long?" Prussia asked, "We've been waiting for, like, an hour!"

"Actually, it's been about ten minutes, mi amigo," Spain offered.

"Yeah, yeah," shrugged Prussia, waving him off dismissively. "Anyway, the _next_ ten minutes are going to be totally awesome!"

"How come?" France wondered.

"I'm going to tell Birdie how awesome he is by letting him know how much he means to the awesome me!" he announced proudly. "The poor guy's lonely all the time, which is totally unawesome, so it's only right for him to know, right?"

"Who?" Spain asked, clueless.

"Canada!" Prussia said. "You know, the guy sitting at the table with the bear? France's awesome ex-colony?"

"Ah, l'amour," sighed France. "You know, just earlier, I witnessed Angleterre and Amerique releasing—"

"Look, there's America!" Prussia exclaimed, pointing at the nation that had just walked out of the meeting room with a burger in his hands. "Hmm, I wonder why he left later than the rest of us. Anyway, he can deliver a message, right?"

"But mon ami, you're supposed to confess your attraction to him face to face! Having someone else do it for you is simply not how l'amour works!" France protested, though Prussia, paying him no heed, proceeded to run over to Canada's brother.

"Hey America, can I ask you a favor?" Prussia asked, tuning out France's dramatic monologue on l'amour occurring in the background, complete with a rose and intense lighting.

"Sure, bro, that's what the Hero is for!" America grinned. "So, what can I do for you?"

"So, the awesome me noticed that your awesome brother, Canada, has been looking kind of lonely for a while, which is totally unawesome by the way, especially considering how awesomely—"

"Dude, you're rambling."

"Oh," Prussia said. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase, but only because you're a fellow member of the Awesome Trio, even if you're not as awesome as me, of course! Point is, could you tell Birdie . . . uh . . ."

"Spit it out already, bro!"

"Could you tell him 'Ich mag dich' for me?" Prussia blurted. "The guy seems lonely, you know? He should know that awesome people like me care about awesome people like him."

America raised his eyebrows, biting into his burger. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm awesomely sure," Prussia stated, his bravado having returned. "If you want to cheer someone up, 'ich mag dich' is the way to go."

"Hmm . . . alright then," America agreed, finishing his burger before walking over to his brother. Prussia watched the scene unfold from the safety of the water fountain with Spain and France, who was still in the middle of his monologue. "Hey, Canada!"

"If you want to play another game of catch, the answer is 'no thank you'," Canada deadpanned, taking a long swig of his drink.

"Actually, I have a message for you," said America.

Hearing this, Canada straightened, setting down the cup. "Really? What is it?"

 _Here's where the awesome part comes in . . . Birdie's going to flip!_ Prussia thought.

"Prussia wants you to eat his vital regions."

Said nation guffawed at this. France, cutting off his monologue, chuckled and patted Prussia on the back, "I warned you not to let someone else confess in your place."

"I think he already mentioned it," Canada shrugged indifferently, returning to his drink.

"Really, mon ami?" France asked, smirking at his friend. "Ohonhonhonhon!"

"Shut up," Prussia groaned, his head in his hands. "As if you could do any better with America relaying your message."

"Ah, a challenge!" said France, summoning head-sparkles. Waving, he called, "Amerique, over here!"

"What is it, France?" the younger nation wondered as he finished devouring his burger. "Do you want to talk some more about Harry Potter or what, dude?"

"Can you please do me a favor and tell Canada il l'aime?" asked France, elbowing Prussia. America opened his mouth to say something, but France cut him off, "And yes, I am sure."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged, "but I'm not walking all the way back there."

"But if you're not walking, Amerique, how're you—"

" _HEY CANADIA_!" America shouted, startling the other nations in the room.

"Who?" Kumajiro asked, looking around.

"I'm Canada . . ." Canada said feebly.

Oblivious, America continued, " _FRANCE WANTS ME TO TELL YOU THAT HE'S LAME—HIS WORDS, NOT MINE_!"

France gawked; Prussia snickered; Spain watched on with a pleasant smile; the other nations in the room were grinning amusedly.

"That doesn't sound like France," Canada pointed out. "Maybe he was speaking in French again . . ."

"Thank you, Canada!" France exclaimed.

Canada nodded. "Don't worry about it, eh?"

"Well, that didn't do much, either," Prussia sighed.

"Oh, I want a turn!" Spain said. "America, can you tell Canada 'I love you' for Prussia?"

Prussia gagged at this, but none of them noticed.

"Sure thing, bro!" nodded America enthusiastically. "This stuff's better done face-to-face—"

"See? Even Amerique agrees with me," France said smugly.

"—so I guess I'll be walking back there again."

Prussia blanched, protesting, "Wait, I don't think we've gone far enough yet to be able to sa—"

"Dude!" America said, once again standing at his brother's table, "I totally love you!"

The Bad Touch Trio facepalmed/sweatdropped/grinned obliviously.

Canada took another sip of his drink without batting an eye. "Oh, that's gay."

"You _are_ gay, bro," America reminded him.

"No, I'm bi," Canada shrugged. Raising his glass for America to see, he added, "Now let me drink my homo milk in peace, eh?"

"Of course, dude!" America laughed, strolling away happily as the Bad Touch Trio continued to goggle at the scene.

"Where did I go wrong?" France sighed. "Well, maybe it's Britain's fault . . ."

Prussia and Spain stood in sulky/oblivious silence as France thoughtfully mulled over Canadian history.

"Well, at least Birdie seems to be cheered up," Prussia finally said, watching as Canada finished drinking his milk and left with Kumajiro. "Still . . . let's agree to never speak of this again."

* * *

"As you all have observed, the Bad Touch Trio attempted to cheer up Canada via America," Monaco said to the small crowd, "and America failed to deliver each of the intended messages; the trio proceeded to make an agreement on mutual silence regarding this event, hence I have won another two bets."

"We know, comrade," Russia said, "Now just accept the money, da?"

As she carefully collected her earnings from the various nations gathered around her, Monaco smiled, "Merci beaucoup."

She really had to invest in a larger wallet, though . . .

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Well, I warned you! ^J^ But really, this fic doesn't really have any set ships . . . for now. *cue [ _insert adjective here_ ] background music* On with the notes!**

 **"Ich mag dich": "I like you" in German.**

 **"Il l'aime": "He likes him" in French.**

 **"Dude, I totally love you!": The American way to confess, apparently.**

 **"Oh, that's gay": How I Met My Brother. Nah, not really.**

 **America's "confession" to Canada (including Canada's "Oh, that's gay") is taken from a YouTube video titled "America's Love Confession to Canada - Eric Vale - EvilleCon 2012" posted by the YouTuber CorporalRavioli. Eric Vale voices both Canada and America in the English dub. Check it out, if you want!**

 **"Homo Milk": A more Canadian term that is short for "Homogenized Milk".**

 **Can Monaco really see into the future, or is she just really good at predictions? Hmm . . .**

 **As usual, your views, reviews, follows, favorites, _EVERYTHING_ , in general . . . you make my day! Poland, a little help here?**

 **Poland: "Stay, like, totally fabulous!"**


	9. America's Nap

**A/N: Maybe America could use a little rest . . . but hey, in the universe of Hetalia, something's bound to happen, right? Mwahahahaha . . . ha! Notes are at the bottom.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Nap**

* * *

When the World Meeting resumed, Britain and Japan were discussing tea; Belgium was wandering around offering waffles and chocolate; Poland had started gushing about a fabulous new pair of heels; Germany was bashing a book against his own head as Italy tried to convince him that everything was alright; Norway was strangling Denmark with his own tie—Monaco, of course, was among the group of nations betting on the outcome. As for America . . .

"Hey everybody, check it out!" Prussia suddenly called.

Pausing with the book halfway to his face, Germany sighed. "What is it now, Bruder?"

"America is totally asleep!" he crowed, gesturing at the unconscious nation. "This is so awesome—now we can finally draw awesome pictures all over his face using these markers!"

"I don't think that's what markers are supposed to be used for," Austria remarked.

"Are you kidding me?" asked Denmark, abruptly getting to his feet—this caused Norway to let go of the tie and Monaco to earn several billion more dollars as a result—and leaning forward excitedly, "That idea is _awesome_!"

"What? No!" Britain spoke up sharply, slapping his hands down on the table. "As a gentleman, I must insist that we take the proper action and knock up the little bugger."

The room descended into an awkward silence, punctuated only by America's snores. Finally, France grinned, "Ohonhonhon, it is so rare to see this side of you, Angleterre!"

"What do you mean, mate?" Australia asked, his koala peering over his shoulder. "Knocking up the boy is just the reasonable course of action."

"Dammit, what's wrong with you bastards?" Romano snapped. Spain pouted.

"Romano, that wasn't very nice—"

"Shut up too, bastard! Why don't you just hit me in the head with a spatula?"

"Will a frying pan work?" Hungary asked, extracting one from who-knows-where.

"He didn't mean literally, aru!"

Meanwhile, France and Britain had launched into another argument, though this time Australia was dragged into it as well. Monaco, who was still counting the money she acquired from the bet on Denmark and Norway's scuffle, decided to sit this one out.

"Bloody frog!" Britain exclaimed as he strangled France. "What do you mean, it's rare to see this side of me? I'm always a perfect gentleman, you wanker!"

"A gentleman who takes pleasure in knocking up sleeping nations, apparently," France retorted. Chuckling, he added, "I see that I have had a positive effect on you after all, Angleterre."

"Oi, who said that knocking up nations was 'pleasant'?" asked Australia. "The other day, I knocked up Greece and one of his cats attacked me . . ."

"Really?" Japan asked, turning to his friend.

Greece shrugged, petting said cat. "What can I say? My cats are protective."

"As if _you'd_ ever be a good influence on me, you bloody pervert!" said Britain, continuing their argument. "Everyone knows that's total bollocks!"

"Ah, but Angleterre, I'm not the one engaging in acts of l'amour with them in their sleep," France smirked.

"Why're you talking about 'l'amour', frog? You just described _yourself_!"

"Non, you are confused, my friend, for it is you who yearns to knock up young Amerique, not I!"

"' _Yearns_ '? You're delusional!"

"Aw, don't make me laugh—you're the one who believes in fairies!" said France.

"Well of course we want to wake him," Australia said, "We can't just let him sleep through the meeting, after all!"

"What do you mean, 'we can't just let him sleep through the meeting'?" France inquired. "We let Greece sleep through it _all the time_!"

"Oi, but I already told you—his cat _pounced on my face_ the last time I tried waking him!"

"Besides, I don't think America would respond too badly if we woke him," Britain said, indicating the other nation with a wave of his hand.

Somehow still asleep despite the noise level in the room, America muttered, "Mm, burgers . . . no, Britain, don't cook, man . . . really, bro, don't . . . hey, my oven . . . that was expensive . . ."

"My cooking isn't that bad, you git!" Britain protested, grabbing the sleeping nation by the ahoge and smacking his head against the table, jerking America awake.

"Hey, why'd you pull Nantucket?" he pouted, rubbing the back of his head.

"I know we planned on knocking him up, mate, but isn't that a bit harsh?" Australia frowned. "Yeah, it's called 'knocking', but I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be literally!"

"Wait, you were planning on knocking me up in my sleep?" America asked in alarm. "Not cool, man!"

"That's what I said!" agreed France with enthusiasm. "But Angleterre said that it was a very reasonable action that any gentleman would do . . . really, I wonder what goes on in that head of his . . ."

"You were complaining about my cooking, you twat!" Britain fumed. "Why _wouldn't_ I knock you up? If I didn't wake you, you might've gone on to spew more bloody lies about my lovely food!"

America blinked. "What does that have to do with anything, bro?"

"Why do you speak of both knocking him up and waking him up, Angleterre?" France asked before America could receive an answer.

"Because they mean the same thing, mate," Australia deadpanned.

Puzzled, France replayed their conversation in his head, and suddenly, it started to make sense. Sighing, he asked, "Why does it always turn out this way when I get involved in matters of l'amour?"

Wiping his eyes, America frowned when he saw red ink staining his fingers as he pulled away. Examining it carefully, he wondered, "Dudes, am I bleeding or what?"

France, Australia, and Britain had fallen silent when Prussia and Denmark stepped forward with suspiciously matching smiles.

"Well . . ." Denmark grinned as Prussia held up a mirror to his face. America's eyes widened. "You were sleeping pretty heavily, so we gave you a little present. What do you think?"

When a full minute passed without the nation saying a thing, Prussia poked him in the shoulder, prodding, "Are you going to reply or what? Because that drawing totally took a lot of effort and it would be unawesome if you didn't like it . . . . Come on, America, you're really freaking me out now! Just say something already!"

Snapping out of his stupor, America locked eyes with the other members of the Awesome Trio and yelped, "I can't believe the two of you would do that to me! I mean, that . . . looks . . . _AWESOME_!"

The other nations sweatdropped as they watched the Awesome Trio gush over the awesomeness of the huge glass of beer on America's face.

"It's not as awesome as the real thing, but I knew you'd like it! Kesesese!"

"Yeah, but at least this one is free!" Denmark pointed out.

"And you know I'm all about freedom!" America grinned. "This is just awesome, guys!"

Prussia leap up onto a chair. "Hey, so do the two of you want to grab some actual beer with the awesome me once the meeting is over?"

"Who said we have to wait until the meeting's over? I want to show off my awesome beer as soon as possible, bros, so you know what that means!"

Striking poses together, the three of them announced, " _THE AWESOME TRIO HAS STRUCK_!"

The trio then whipped out matching grappling hooks and shot them through the ceiling of the World Meeting, going up, up, and away using the power of their combined awesomeness as the other nations gaped. Once they arrived at the bar, Denmark stopped the timer and read, "Four seconds flat—that's a new record, guys!"

Back at the World Meeting, Germany asked, "With them gone, do you think we might actually accomplish something this time?"

But when he saw China sifting through another box of firecrackers, Hungary discreetly recording various clips from Spain and Romano's conversation, and Russia stretching Latvia with an intimidating smile as the other Baltics cowered in fear, he simply sighed and resigned himself to whacking his face with a book once more.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **I feel like certain nations have been spending too much time on Urban Dictionary . . . *cough*France and Romano*cough* Perhaps France despises Britain so much that he refuses to use British English if he can avoid it. As for Romano, perhaps he's been searching up insults? Hmm . . . any theories? Oh, and apparently Britain still can't cook, even in someone's dreams . . .**

 **Britain: "Well, it's not my bloody fault!"**

 **Whatever you say! Anyway, the not-quite-"definitions" here are kind of short.**

 **"[To] Knock Up [Someone]": This phrase is supposed to mean the same as "waking up" or "rousing" someone, though in American slang, at least, it's gained some _different_ meanings.**

 **"Beer": The—**

 **Prussia: "Oh! I've got this one!"**

 **Me: "If you say so . . ."**

 **Prussia: "Beer is the awesomest drink ever, and it runs in the awesome, beer-loving Germanic blood of West and I! Of course, mine is way more awesome than his. Kesesese!"**

 **Okay then. On a semi-related note, I read somewhere on the internet that America's beer consumption is decreasing as wine becomes more popular, though the article was from a year (or two or three) ago.**

 **France: "Ohonhonhon, it seems like Amerique has some sense of taste after all! Hope is not lost!"**

 **Italy: "Ve, wine is amazing, but it's not as great as _PASTA_!"**

 **Romano: "Why're you agreeing with the wine bastard, you bastard . . . ?"**

 **Prussia: " _BEER_! _BEER_! Oh, and stay awesome!"**


	10. America's Car's Fate

**A/N: Your reviews never fail to make me grin. (England, you naughty, naughty wizard boy . . . ^J^)You guys are awesome!**

 **Prussia: "But not as awesome as the awesome me, kesesese!"**

 **Me: "You sure about that?"**

 **Russia: *pops in* "See, it's a silly joke! Nothing is more awesome than Prussia!"**

 **Me: *sweatdrop* "Are you sure you're Russia, because you're acting a little out of character . . . ?"**

 **Prussia: "It seems like even Russia can't deny my— Wait, why's a crazy face like you doing siding with the awesome me, anyway?"**

 **Russia: "I was thinking that we might become friends, and then later we might become one, da?"**

 **Me: "Whew, still Russia. For a second there, I was getting worried!"**

 **Prussia: "Uh . . ."**

 **Notes are at the bottom!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Car's Fate**

* * *

After Prussia and Denmark went through several rounds of drinks—though due to their combined awesomeness, they appeared to remain completely sober—the trio eventually decided to return to the hotel, and because they were too awesome to walk and had been kicked out of the bar the last time they broke through the ceiling with grappling hooks.

America, being the Hero, insisted on being behind the wheel—to Prussia's disappointment, America hadn't ingested any beer at the bar; the nation's beer consumption was gradually declining as his wine consumption increased, and because Prussia had urged him not to get any drinks unless it was beer, America was the only one who was legally allowed to be driving at the moment. However, they soon realized that ever since Italy had taken his woodie on a joyride, America had no idea where it had gone. So, instead of simply hiring a taxi, America had dragged them all back to the World Meeting so that they could ask about his car's whereabouts.

"Hey, dudes!" America called as he busted through the door with Prussia and Denmark in tow, "I'm back, and I have an important question for you, bros, so here goes! Where's my car?"

At this, the room went silent. Japan and Hungary paused their observations of Spain and Romano's conversation, which had suddenly gone quiet; France and Britain stopped their quarreling abruptly and looked away awkwardly; Monaco, China, and Australia's hushed conversation toward the side of the room trailed off; Germany glanced at Italy, who stared on indifferently.

"You probably don't want to know, Amerique," France warned.

"France, dude, of course I want to know!" exclaimed America, oblivious to the grim mood that had come over the meeting room. "I mean, it's my woodie! Why wouldn't I?"

"Pardon me, America-san," Japan said, "but I must warn you that you might not like the answer . . ."

"Perhaps we should just come clean," Hungary suggested.

"Ve, if you say so," Italy said, unaware of the warning looks cast in his direction. "See, your car kind of got smashed, so . . ."

"What?" America asked, blinking. Turning to Germany and Britain, he frowned, "Dudes, I thought you told me that cars can't drink! Or drive up vertical surfaces, or transform into giant robots, or—"

"You git, your car didn't get drunk!" Britain said exasperatedly, "It was driven into a _streetlight_. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but the car's totaled."

America's mouth fell open in surprise.

France sighed, "You could've at least put it more gently, Angleterre."

"As if you could've done any better, frog," he huffed indignantly.

Prussia tapped America on the shoulder. When he received no response, he proceeded to poke the other nation until he finally announced, "Guys, you totally broke America! _Now_ who's going to drive us back to the hotel? That's so unawesome. Then again, it's not like we can use his car, anyways . . ."

Hungary offered, "If you want to see what happened, I have pictures . . ."

"How is _that_ supposed to cheer him up?" Germany demanded.

"Wait, you have _pictures_?" America asked, suddenly perking up. "That's awesome, bro! Now you _have_ to show me, dude."

"What do you think you're doing, you twat?" Britain snapped. "We've _panicking_ about what to tell you about your car all morning, but when we finally work up the guts to tell you, you stay quiet for a whole bloody minute before jumping at the opportunity to see Hungary's _photographs_ of your totaled car?"

"Um, yeah," America shrugged. "I mean, if it's not that bad, Japan and I might be able to rebuild it with some improvements and stuff, or at least use the parts for something else. But dude, I didn't know you cared so much! I'm touched, bro."

"Seriously, just go read the atmosphere, you git," Britain groaned.

"I'm on it!" grinned America, striking a superhero-type pose. "The search is back on—time to hit the library! Italy, you coming?"

"Ve, of course! Surely we'll find the Legendary Ability to Read the Atmosphere this time!"

The door quickly slammed shut as the two nations ran out, leaving the rest of the room in stunned silence.

"Well, that was rather abrupt," Hungary remarked.

"I don't think he's going to be coming back anytime soon," Denmark noted, glancing at Prussia, "So I guess we're stuck here until the meeting— _ACK_!"

"That is what you get for leaving early," Norway stated as he yanked Denmark's tie.

Prussia made a mental note not to get on Norway's bad side . . . and to have a serious talk with America later regarding his recent violations of the Bro Code.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **"Woodie": Can refer to several things. The notes of "America's Fries" (Chapter 2) mention some of the objects a "woodie" might be referring to; the notes of "America's Car: Part 1" (Chapter 4) have a brief note on the "woodie" as a car.**

 **"Smashed": In American slang, at least, it has a few meanings, though in this chapter, America assumed that it meant "heavily intoxicated", AKA "very drunk". Other than its meanings in slang, "smashed" can also mean "shattered" or "broken into pieces".**

 **"The Legendary Ability to Read the Atmosphere": Something that's been referenced in canon. America and Italy, at least, apparently have had a search for it . . . maybe they should try using a barometer? (HAHAH— Sigh.)**

 **It seems as though my chapters' titles are no longer merely two words long as of "America's a Messenger?" (Chapter 8), though if you count "America's Car: Part 1" (Chapter 4) and "America's Car: Part 2" (Chapter 5) as being more than two words long, then I suppose that happened a while earlier. Still, I'm immensely proud of all the chapters, so yay!**

 **As for America's "recent violations of the Bro Code" . . . you might be reading more about it later. *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* This chapter's kind of on the shorter end of the spectrum, but don't worry—there are some longer ones that'll be coming soon. Prussia?**

 **Russia: "Hello, friend!"**

 **Me: "Russia, what're you doing?"**

 **Russia: "Prussia's . . . _busy_ , so I thought I'd fill in for a bit."**

 **Me: "If you say so. But who's going to do the outro now?"**

 **Russia: "Well, since I'm filling in—"**

 **America: *swings through window* "That's what the Hero is for! Stay awesome, dudes!"**

 **Russia: "Kolkolkolkol . . ."**

 **America: "Hey, what's up with you, bro?"**


	11. America's Matchmaking Skills

**A/N: This chapter, like "America's a Messenger?" (Chapter 8) also has some more ship tease . . . but it's probably more crackish. But then again, that's what you get when you have the Yaoi Army behind it! *cough*Hungary and Japan*cough***

 **Prussia: "Ja, their level of crazy is almost the same level as my awesome!"**

 **Me: "Hey, you're back!"**

 **Prussia: "Why do you sound so surprised? I'm awesome—of course I'm back!"**

 **Still, there shouldn't be too much ship tease in this fic altogether, but I'm not saying that it won't be present at all—it might just pop up sporadically. The next chapter shouldn't really have any ship tease in it, though, in case you're wondering, but it also has to deal with some . . . _l'amour_. What is this oh-so-mysterious chapter about? You'll see!**

 **Notes are at the bottom of the page. WOOT!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Matchmaking Skills**

* * *

"Hey Japan, you okay, bro?" America asked, prodding at the pensive nation. After the meeting, he and Japan had gone to dinner together at an overpriced restaurant serving blowfish. "You're being quieter than usual, dude."

"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking," said Japan, staring off at nothing in particular. "I am sorry if I offended you, America-san."

"We're trying to figure out who we should pair up next," Hungary explained, popping up next to them without warning. Frowning, she added, "However, we're not making much progress . . ."

"Whoa, dude, when'd you get in here?" America yelped.

"I have my ways," Hungary shrugged. "But anyway, America, do you happen to know anyone who's been spending a lot of time together?"

"Uh, Monaco and Australia were talking a lot during the car ride a while ago," America offered, thinking, "but then again, they kept talking about some bets or something, so—"

"That's great! We'll be right on it!" said Hungary, disregarding the rest of America's statement as she rushed out the door with Japan in tow.

"Wait, Hungary-san! My blowfish will get cold!" Japan protested.

"Don't worry, Japan," Hungary assured him, "Right now we have a duty to fulfill!"

Japan sighed. "Well, I can't exactly abandon our duty, can I?"

America remained at the table, eyeing the blowfish warily before a waitress eventually confronted him. "Sir, sorry to interrupt, but you have been sitting here for a while. Are you going to eat that or what?"

". . . Of course, man! After all, I'm the Hero!" he replied, snapping out of his trance. Picking up the blowfish, he declared " _YOLO, BRO_!" before shoving it into his mouth.

As America gulped down the blowfish and proceeded to go on about how he had defeated the mighty beast, one of the chefs stepped out of the kitchen and approached the waitress.

"Excuse me, but did you deliver the blowfish to this table earlier?" the chef asked tentatively.

"Yes, I did," the waitress confirmed. "What about it?"

". . . It was prepared improperly."

" _What_?" she exclaimed, glancing anxiously at the giddy customer. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Um, sir . . . does the blowfish taste a little . . . _funny_ to you?"

America paused for a thoughtful moment. Shrugging he said, "Now that you mention it, bro, yeah, it kind of does—but it's nothing close to _Britain's_ food!"

The nation burst out laughing as the waitress and chef watched on, dumbfounded. Fortunately for America, he had developed the ability to eat otherwise inedible substances due to having lived under Britain's rule in the past. Perhaps that would also explain why he was able to chow down on so many burgers. Meanwhile . . .

* * *

"Oi, Monaco, did you also get a text from Hungary saying that there was a barbie going on here?" Australia asked, scratching his koala.

"Oh, no," Monaco said, shaking her head. "Japan called me and informed me of a poker tournament occurring in this area, though I can't say that I've seen any signs of one, hence I am prepared to make another bet with you."

"If it's alright with you, mate, I think I'll lay off betting with you for a while," Australia declined, "Though I'd like to know what's on your mind."

"Alright then," she smirked. Gesturing at the building across the street, she said, "Hungary and Japan invited us here in an attempt to set us up together and are watching us from the third window to the left of the second floor of that building. They have three cameras—a minuscule one on that streetlight, an even smaller one planted in that sidewalk crack, and one propped up on a tripod just within the window I indicated. Both of them are watching us via a live feed in the corner of said room."

Glancing around at all the places Monaco had pointed out, Australia's eyes widened, "Crikey, you're right!"

"I would have preferred it if I could bet against you on it, though," Monaco sighed, walking over and plucking up the two tiny street-level cameras.

"What're you going to do with those?" Australia asked as Monaco pocketed the devices.

"I'll return them eventually," she shrugged, not exactly answering his question.

Australia looked at the café they were standing next to. Struck by an idea, he said, "Oi, while we're here, do you want to get something to eat? I mean, we might as well accomplish something since we've already arrived."

"You do realize that that's exactly what Hungary and Japan want us to do," Monaco pointed out.

"Well, yeah," Australia admitted. Monaco grinned.

"Still, I'd be glad to accompany you if we get to play a game of poker while we're there," she said.

Needless to say, Australia totally lost, though they enjoyed their time there anyhow.

* * *

"Wow, Hungary-san, it appears that your plan worked after all," Japan stated as they watched the live footage of Australia and Monaco dining together from the back of the room.

Instead of the three cameras Monaco had reported, the number of cameras that they had set up in the area really totaled to twenty-seven. So, they still had plenty of feed to watch when Monaco took down two of their devices.

"What did I say?" she smiled, sighing happily as they chatted. "I am an expert when it comes to love."

"Ohonhonhon, I think not!" France shouted, bursting into their room. "No one has more expertise than moi when it comes to matters of l'amour, mon ami!"

"Hello, France-san," Japan nodded as Hungary huffed skeptically. "Would you like to watch Australia-san and Monaco-san with us?"

"Oui, but of course!" he exclaimed, seating himself down comfortably in front of the various monitors that had been set up. "The last time I watched Monaco have dinner with somebody, it was with Seborga. Hmm, I wonder what he's up to now . . . do you think the two of them might get together someday?"

"It is my personal belief that they have all been friend-zoned," Japan said bluntly, "so I don't really think Monaco-san will be getting together with either of them soon . . ."

Hungary elbowed both of them, chiding, "Oh, just be quiet and enjoy the footage."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **I warned you! But yeah, they've all been friend-zoned . . . for now. *cue [ _insert adjective here_ ] music* However, when it comes to l'amour, I'm not sure if Hungary recognizes the existence of a friend zone . . . _sigh_.**

 **Improperly-prepared blowfish can be deadly. Licensed blowfish chefs have to undergo rigorous training in order to learn how to properly prepare it.**

 **Prussia: "Is that it?"**

 **Me: "Yeah, pretty much."**

 **Prussia: "Hmm, seems a bit short . . . lame-o!"**

 **Me: "Just give the outro already."**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome!"**

 ***hint*hint* The next chapter will tie into Hetalia canon . . . ^J^**


	12. America's Writing Skills

**A/N: WOOT, 30 reviews! Oh, and no grappling hooks have broken through my floor yet (though yes, that _would_ be pretty awesome . . . but probably not for the floor, which already has dents due to spazzing out in glee) so I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **In case you want to read through the chapter first before I directly state which canon strip/episode it's referring to . . . I'll refrain from mentioning it now and instead I shall mention it at the bottom of the page in the notes. ^J^**

 **America: "But dude, you can't leave me in the dark! I'm sca— I mean, I'm obviously not scared of the dark! The Hero isn't afraid of anything, bro!"**

 **. . . Alright-y then. This chapter is on the longer end of the spectrum so far, so yay! Now, _LET'S DO THIS_!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Writing Skills**

* * *

"Look out below, kesesese!"

With that brief warning, Prussia promptly fell through the ceiling and onto the desk of a startled America. Denmark and Gilbird tumbled in shortly after him, further scattering the other nation's documents.

"Hey, I had a boatload of paperwork to do!" America protested as his friends scrambled to their feet. "Do you know how long that's going to take to clean up, dude?"

"Yeah, yeah, but consider this as Part One of your awesome punishment for breaking the Bro Code, because what you did back at the World Meeting was totally unawesome!" Prussia said.

America blinked. "What?"

"Article 107: 'A Bro never leaves another Bro hanging'," Denmark recited, giving America a pointed look. "I'm pretty sure that abandoning your fellow bros at the World Meeting after insisting on driving them back to the hotel is considered 'leaving them hanging'."

"Aw, man, I totally forgot about that!" America facepalmed, groaning. "Even worse, dude, we didn't even find the Legendary Ability to Read the Atmosphere!"

"That's so unawesome!" Prussia agreed. "Next time, Denmark and I are coming with you—we were told to find it as well, you know. Just be glad that we decided to go for the awesome punishment instead of giving you a lecture, kesesese! But anyway, Part One of the plan—messing up your paperwork and grabbing your attention—is complete."

"So, what's Part Two?" America asked.

Right on cue, a low rumbling in the distance was all the warning they had before Spain and France rode Spain's bull straight through the wall, completing the Bad Touch Trio.

"Hola, amigo! We received your text," Spain announced, waving his phone in the air. "So, where is the bull festival you spoke of?"

"'Bull festival'?" France repeated. "Non, you must be confused! Prussia texted me saying that it was a celebration of the human body, mon ami. Isn't that why we came?"

"Nein," Prussia said, striking an awesome pose with his leg up on a chair, "We are here to write a book!"

"Oh," France sighed dramatically. "Why must I always be let down . . .?"

". . . You can head back then, toro," Spain said to the bull. Grunting, the bull obediently busted another hole in the wall fleeing the room.

"Well, that's going to take a while to fix," America muttered. Perking up, he asked, "So, we're writing a book?"

"It's the rest of your punishment," Denmark explained.

"Are you kidding me, bro?" America whooped. "When it comes to writing, I am the man, my man!"

Grinning smugly, Prussia reminded him, "Like I said, we chose the _awesome_ punishment, and I called over Spain and France, our love experts, for help."

"Wait, what about Austria and Hungary?" Denmark wondered. "I mean, they got married at some point, right?"

"Hungary creeps me out and Austria is a total wet blanket, which is totally unawesome," Prussia replied bluntly. "Also, the book we're writing has to do with them, so we can't ask them for help because then that would also be unawesome."

"I suppose this book will also have to do with l'amour?" France asked hopefully.

"Ja!" Prussia confirmed, "See, I found this bookstore that Austria always goes to for relationship guides, so I thought we could write a book he can't refuse."

"I did something like that with Romano before!" Spain chirped. "Well, minus the 'writing a book' part . . . he called it 'stalking' and ran away from me, but then he got captured by Turkey so I had to go back and rescue him . . ."

"Awesome story and all that, but anyway, this book has a catch," Prussia continued, pausing for effect. "See, it'll have relationship advice, like how to do things from dating to a proposal . . . but it'll all be awesomely crazy-town! I already have the awesome title— _The Beginner's Guide to Relationships: for the Hard Hearted German_ —and because he's Austria, he won't suspect anything wrong with it at all, even after he's finished reading it!"

"Yeah, definitely the awesome punishment," America agreed. Although he wasn't sure if he liked the idea of possibly sabotaging Austria's relationships, if this was what it took to redeem himself for violating the Bro Code, then it was his duty as a bro to go through with it. "So, dudes, where do we start?"

"Didn't I just say 'things from dating to a proposal'?" Prussia asked pointedly. "I'm thinking that it should start with something close to normal, like a dinner date, but then it should get crazier and crazier. Oh, and to make it even more awesome we can tell them to do it all in one night, so their date won't even know what hit them!"

"That's an awesome plan!" Denmark cheered. "What's going to come first for the date, then?"

"Well, you should probably get to know the person you're going to get married to," said Spain. "For instance, I've known the two Italy brothers for a long time!"

"Alright, then," Prussia said, typing into a laptop. "Let's see . . . 'Before going on an awesome date with your awesome love interest, it is considered to be awesome, proper etiquette to find out more about them first. Therefore, unless you spend two weeks awesomely following them around everywhere to discover their interests before the awesome date, they will likely be offended and may be tempted to fling their drink at your awesome face. As a result, this awesome piece of advice is crucial to the awesome success of your relationship.' How's that?"

"If you delete all the times that you used the word 'awesome', then I would say that that is exactly what I would not recommend doing in order to woo someone," France replied. Obediently, Prussia deleted each "awesome" and "awesomely" he had typed up. "Now, I think that many people appreciate gifts. Is there any way that you could work that in there, mon cher?"

"Kesesese, of course I can! 'Using what you have found out about your love interest, decide upon two gifts to bring them. The first should be something that's pretty but that's also generally useless and will likely fall apart by the end of the week, like an ice sculpture of their thumb or a bouquet of flowers. However, it must be related to something that they, specifically, are interested in. When presenting them the first gift, you must tell your love interest exactly why you selected it for them. For instance, "I brought you an ice sculpture of your thumb because I noticed that you like to read about Antarctica a lot, and there's a lot of ice there. Also, I've been staring at your thumb, and it is quite beautiful." This will prove to them that you have, indeed, been paying attention to them, and as a result, they will be incredibly grateful.' What do you think?"

"Sadly, I have done some of these things," France admitted.

America raised his eyebrows. "You've given someone an ice sculpture of their thumb?"

"Non! Bouquets!" he snapped. "Though _I_ do the fashionable thing and give them roses."

"Hey, we still have to decide on the second gift!" Denmark said. "I'm thinking something that shows your devotion—you have to be committed in a relationship, right?"

"Awesome idea," Prussia grinned. "Hmm . . . I know! 'As for the second gift, it must be a piece of custom jewelry to show your devotion to your love interest—after all, a good relationship takes commitment. Be sure to present it in quick succession to your first gift. This jewelry must reflect your love interest's interests as well. Specifically, it must have the shape of one of your love interest's favorite foods, such as an ice cream cone, a wineglass, or'—"

"A tomato!" Spain piped up.

"That works!" agreed Prussia, continuing, "—'a tomato. Once more, you must explain why you have chosen this as their gift. For instance, "I brought you an anklet with a charm shaped like an ice cream cone because I have seen you eat many during movie marathons in your basement while you hold a box of tissues in your other hand and blow your nose until it turns red, but keep blowing it anyway." Your love interest will likely be rendered speechless, awed by your display of commitment, of course!' Do you think that's enough?"

"Oui, but shouldn't we tell them what to do during the actual date besides giving them the gifts?" France wondered.

"No time for that, dude!" America shouted, "Let's just skip to the proposal already, bro—I've got that one in the bag!"

"It better be awesome, kesesese!" Prussia snickered, sliding over the laptop.

"Come on, I'm the master of proposals! Trust me, it'll be good," assured America, already typing away. "Check it! 'These gifts will build up to the climax of your night—the proposal, which will show your love interest how serious you are about your relationship together. Fortunately for you, we have a foolproof plan that will guarantee your success.'"

"Really?" Denmark asked, straightening.

France smirked. "Please continue, ohonhonhon!"

"Sure things, bros!" America beamed. "Okay, so. 'Flash mobs are a great way to display your affection for somebody, so your love interest will be delighted if you organize one for them. However, in a flash mob, the entrance is very important, so be sure to have it start in a noticeable, memorable way, such as having all the members swing in through the windows, bust through the walls, or descend from the ceiling before launching into a dance routine complete with confetti cannons. For these, "German Sparkle Party" and "I Like to Move It" seem to work the best, though if these songs do not suit your love interest, feel free to choose another one, though it is essential that your flash mob includes you performing a ballet solo in order to show your love interest your dedication to them.

"'When the dance routine ends, if your love interest asks if it's over yet, you must inform them that it is not, and then proceed to direct their attention out the windows. It is at that time that you should have multiple airplanes streak through the sky, spelling "Become one?" in their wake. As soon as you're sure your love interest has read the message, you must embrace them in a bear hug, remaining in that bear hug for three minutes minimum to ensure that they fully understand the level of adoration you feel for them. If they are so impressed that they fail to speak after the display, take that as a "yes" and elope immediately.' So, what do you think?"

"Yeah, that does sound pretty awesomely crazy-town," Prussia told him.

"Who in the world would propose like this?" France said. "I pity poor Austria already . . ."

"Dude, what're you talking about?" America wondered, "I was being hardcore and eating blowfish with Japan yesterday, and sometime after he left, this is _exactly_ how some guy two tables down proposed, and they were accepted, of course. It was totally awesome!"

"Oh, seriously?" said Spain. "Hmm, maybe I should propose to the Italy brothers this way, then . . ."

"So, which song did they use, 'German Sparkle Party' or 'I Like to Move It'?" Denmark asked as Spain became lost in deep contemplation.

"Both," America shrugged.

"Kesesese"-ing, Prussia took the laptop back and declared, dashing out the room, "Well, the awesome me is going to get this published and put on the market immediately. This is going to be awesome!"

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **BUON SAN VALENTINO—that's what this chapter ties into. There, I said it! I'm not going to go incredibly in-depth here, but the Buon San Valentino strips in the webcomic revolve around Valentine's Day and are also depicted in Episodes 21 and 22 of Season 5 of Hetalia (Beautiful World). I'd recommend that you read the webcomic strips if you haven't yet, since there are a few scenes in them that I haven't seen depicted in the anime yet.**

 **To recap: In "America's Car's Fate" (Chapter 10), America sort of abandoned his fellow members of the Awesome Trio to search for the Legendary Ability to Read the Atmosphere with Italy, which is apparently a violation of the Bro Code. But of course, because they're the Awesome Trio, the "punishment" must be awesome as well, so Prussia's using the situation to his advantage—America's ideas for a proposal would probably be useful for him to have in such a book.**

 **America: "Oh, and Prussia, add something about neon food in there, dude!"**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, I'm on it!"**

 **Me: "Didn't you leave a while ago to get it 'published and put on the market immediately'?"**

 **Prussia: ". . . Just get on with the notes."**

 **"German Sparkle Party" and "I Like to Move It": Two songs written by different artists—at least, as far as I'm aware; but then again, I live under a boulder, so . . . . "I Like to Move It" is a song that appears several times in the _Madagascar_ movies; "German Sparkle Party" is a hardcore party, hardcore party. But they still have some similarities! For instance:**

 **"I Like to Move It": "I like to move it, move it"/"I like to move it, move it"/"I like to move it, move it"/"We like to . . . _MOVE IT_!"**

 **"German Sparkle Party": "I like German Sparkle Party (Sparkle Party, Sparkle Party)"/"I like German Sparkle Party (Sparkle Party, Sparkle Party)"/"Very German Sparkle Party (Sparkle Party, Sparkle Party)"/"German, German Sparkle Party (Sparkle Party, Sparkle Party)"**

 **. . . You know what? I think it's stuck in my head now. You're welcome.**

 **Prussia: "Hey, West, are you up for a—"**

 **Germany: "No."**

 **Prussia: "Ja, is this a par—"**

 **Germany: "Mein Gott, I said _no_!"**

 **Prussia: "What? But you've never turned down a German Sparkle Party before! That would be totally unawesome!"**

 **Germany: ". . . I don't have my rubber boots."**

 **Prussia: "What happened to them?"**

 **Germany: "Italy couldn't resist the sparkles . . ."**

 **Me: "Stay awesome!"**


	13. America's Serious Talk

**A/N: School starts for me tomorrow (I follow a "Traditional" calendar), so after today, updates might be slightly less frequent . . . but don't worry! I'll try to update _at least_ once per week, depending on the amount of ideas I have and the amount of time I have, so hopefully, you'll still have several chapters each week. More on this will be mentioned in the notes of this chapter.**

 **Warning: Some ship tease ahead! In all seriousness, though, it isn't exactly "ship tease" unless you look at it through the eyes of the Yaoi Army (Hungary, Japan . . . and possibly France) or put the chapter under scrutiny. ^J^**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Serious Talk**

* * *

America slammed open the doors.

" _BRITAIN_!" he shouted, marching into the World Meeting. "I have to have a serious talk with you, dude!"

Looking up from his cup of tea, Britain said, "As if _you_ could ever have a 'serious talk', you git. Well, what is it this time?"

"As the Hero, it's my job to tell you that you can't keep blowing off people, bro," America said; the other nation nearly spit out his drink at this, though America, oblivious, continued, "I mean, I think it's pretty rude, and I'm pretty sure the others don't like it either, no offense."

" _W-what_?" Britain managed to stammer out, not sure if he was hearing right.

"Yeah, you heard me," said America, "It _stinks_ , dude, and you've been doing it a lot more recently. Like, I know you have a lot of work to do, bro, and that usually keeps you pretty busy, but this is getting ridiculous, so I'm calling an intervention!"

"You twat! I can assure you, I did no such—"

"Oh Angleterre, how could you do such a cruel thing to young Amerique?" France asked, twirling around with a—wait, where'd he get that rose? Anyway, looping an arm around America's shoulders, he added, "I knew you were cold, but _this_?"

"I don't understand why you're all making such a big deal about it! As if I would do anything like that at all—I'm a perfect gentleman!" Britain exclaimed, standing up in his chair. "And get your bloody hands off of America, you frog!"

France smirked, but refused to move his arm. "I did not realize that you care so much for Amerique, ohonhonhon!"

In the background, Hungary and Japan were having nosebleeds again. Thankfully, Austria had brought the tissues, as usual.

"Belt up, frog!"

"There aren't any seatbelts, though," America said, confused, "so how're we going to do that?"

Britain facepalmed. "Haven't you learned anything from last time?" he asked. "Why'd you have to go and botch up my language?"

"Hey!" America frowned. " _You're_ the one who never showed up for dinner with Japan and I the other day! You can't just blow off having blowfish with us and not expect us to be fine about it, bro!"

Britain paused for a while, trying to make sense of America's words. Finally, he declared in slight exasperation, "Well, blow me! This must've been another difference in slang after all . . ."

". . . What was that again?" America asked cautiously.

"I said that this must be another difference in slang after all, you git! I hope you're satisfied, now that I've—"

"No, before that," said America.

"'Blow me'?" Britain repeated.

France grinned deviously. "Ohonhonhon, do you really mean that, Angleterre?"

"What're you talking about, frog?" wondered Britain, oblivious. "Of course I mean it! How's that even a question?"

"Dude, you shouldn't say stuff like that in public," America said sternly.

"Are you implying that you've heard him say things like that in private?" said Hungary, who smiled innocently despite the excitement in her eyes and the strange looks she was being given—well, Switzerland was giving her an intense glare, but other than that, the looks were mostly strange.

"What do you mean, I 'shouldn't say stuff like that in public'?" Britain asked before Hungary could receive an answer, his eyes narrowing. "I can say whatever I want wherever, whenever, and however I want!"

"Yeah, bro, but didn't you tell me that there are certain things you shouldn't say in public?" America pointed out.

"You're _America_!" said Britain. "Isn't 'freedom of speech' something that exists at your place?"

"Of course, dude, but there are some things that are considered profanities," America explained seriously. "I mean, you're pretty much allowed to wear any clothes you want, but that doesn't mean you should run through the streets naked!"

"France does that all the time!" Britain protested.

"So do you!" France retorted.

"That's only when I'm drunk, frog!"

"Which is all the time, if you cannot recall!" said France. Once again, he and Britain found themselves strangling each other in the midst of a World Meeting. "Everyone knows that!"

"Whoa, I didn't know that!" America piped up, popping up somewhere near their quarrel.

Britain blanched. "Uh, weren't we talking about something else just now?"

"Oh, yeah," America agreed. "Anyway, you can't say things like 'blow me' in public!"

"Well, why not?" Britain crossed his arms defiantly.

"It's indecent, that's why!" Austria huffed from his seat.

". . . _Oh_ ," Britain said, finally getting a hint of what was going on.

There was a pause.

Swiftly turning on America, he fumed, "Why didn't you tell me earlier, you twat? We could've avoided both of those misunderstandings in the first place and that frog wouldn't have spewed those lies about me being drunk all the—"

"Whoa, dude, chill out!" said America, holding up an arm to defend himself. "Look, I'm sorry, okay bro?"

"Well, you should be!" Britain snapped. Sighing, he added, "But fine, I'll forgive you this time, you git. Just _please_ try not to butcher my language any more than you already have."

"Ha! No promises, dude."

Britain simply sighed.

As the other nations went on with the World Meeting as usual—that is to say, chatted, burst out in spontaneous song, and tap-danced on top of the table, among other things—France, Hungary, and Japan met in a secluded corner to discuss some pressing matters.

"Japan, were you able to capture the discussion between America, Britain, and France following America's entrance?" Hungary asked.

"Yes, of course," Japan confirmed, showing her the camera. "We caught some good USUK, thanks to France."

"Ohonhonhon, it is my pleasure," said France, "though I see it more as UKUS . . ."

"I have to say, I wasn't sure if I'd be into it, but I think the pairing's growing on me," Hungary admitted, dabbing at her nosebleed.

"Oui, we hear you," France assured her, "but just enjoy the footage for now."

So, another World Meeting passed without reaching a resolution, though no one was really bothered, other than perhaps Germany.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Guess what? It's more slang! Once again, there aren't really any set ships in this fic, which might be part of the reason why the Yaoi Army's kind of been struggling recently—they've sort of been clinging to whatever "evidence", however vague, of l'amour existing between nations, as you might have observed—but they can probably handle it. Probably. More on that after the slang definitions.**

 **"Blow Off": In American slang, to "blow off" someone usually means to ignore them or to cancel plans with them, perhaps in an implied rude or cold manner. In British slang, it can mean "to fart".**

 **Britain: "You didn't have to state it so explicitly, you twat!"**

 **America: "But dude, it's _your_ slang."**

 **"Blow Me": In British slang, it's perhaps a shortening of the phrase "blow me down" and can be used as an exclamation of surprise. However, using it in public in the USA probably wouldn't be a good idea.**

 **Britain: "Why's that?"**

 **America: ". . . Hey, is that a Mickey D's? Quick, let's grab some more burgers, bro!"**

 **Britain: *dragged away* "But you didn't answer my bloody question yet, you git!"**

 **So, slightly more on the Yaoi Army. They're pretty much avid supporters of any ship, though you might learn a bit more about them in the next chapter . . . *hint*hint* But again, it's all pretty much pretty vague ship tease.**

 **Now that that's out of the way, I mentioned earlier that updates might be a bit more spread out after today—this is also partly due to the fact that by midnight today (tonight?), I will have gotten you all caught up with the chapters that weren't able to be posted while I was in an aforementioned WiFi shortage, and so far, I don't have so many planned after that.**

 **If you have any requests—things you'd like to see in future chapters, interesting slang you'd like to have used, random crack ship teasing, fifty-seven merchant ships loaded with tea, et cetera—feel free to put it in the reviews or PM me or something, and I'll see what I can do, since having a prompt or at least something to go with can speed things up. But if it's a bit too dirty, unreasonable, or otherwise inappropriate, I might not put it in this fic. That is, unless, of course, it has to do with slang differences. If there are requests that can be fulfilled, they'll probably start appearing in chapters sometime after Chapter 16.**

 **Don't worry, though, because I _do_ have several more chapters planned after this, so you won't run out of things to read even if you don't have any requests. ^J^ By my estimates, you'll probably have a chapter every one or two days or so without the aid of requests, which is still plenty! And I encourage you to continue posting your usual reviews as well—you light up my day!**

 **America: *walks through door* "Dude, we're ba— Uh, bro, why're the notes suddenly so long? They're almost larger than Britain's eye—"**

 **Britain: "Don't say it!"**

 **America: "—brows." *gets tackled immediately***

 **Prussia: *pops in* "Hey, America and Britain are totally fighting! That's so awesome!"**

 **Me: *sigh* "Apparently, this is what happens when someone uses my door 'properly' . . . . Are you going to give the outro now?"**

 **Prussia: "Ja. Stay awesome!"**


	14. America's Proposal

**A/N: This chapter may include some extremely vague/possibly nonexistent ship tease as well as references to "America's a Messenger?" (Chapter 8) and references to Hetalia canon. But of course, there aren't any set ships for this fic, so . . . yeah. There are also some lyrics that I want to facepalm for writing . . . but hey, there's the Awesome Trio, so it bett—**

 **Prussia: "So it better be totally awesome, kesesese!"**

 **Me: "Hey, that was my line!"**

 **Prussia: "You kind of stole my outro the other day, so take this as my awesome payback!"**

 **. . . I really should have seen that one coming. This chapter is also on the longer end of the spectrum so far. ^J^ Notes are at the bottom of the page!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Proposal**

* * *

"America, before we declare your violation of the Bro Code officially redeemed, there's one more task that you must complete," Denmark said. Once again, he and the Bad Touch Trio had busted into America's office—bulls, grappling hooks, the usual—and were meeting with the unsuspecting nation. "Part Three has come, my friend."

"For real, it's almost over?" America whooped. "Yeah, bros! What is it?"

"You have to propose to Britain," Spain said cheerily.

"Yeah, I—Wait, _WHAT_?" America gawked.

"You could've at least broken the news to him more gently, mon ami," France chided, before turning to America. "Oui, you heard us—we want you to propose."

"It was their idea," said Denmark, gesturing at the Bad Touch Trio.

"See, remember when we had you deliver all those messages to Birdie?" Prussia asked.

America blinked. "Who?"

Exasperated, Prussia exclaimed, "Your awesome brother!"

"Oh, you mean Canadia," said America, ignoring the collective facepalms at the mispronunciation of Canada's name. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

"I found out that Hungary and Japan have kept footage of our little exchange," France explained, "and we want to get it back."

"Sure, but why do I have to _propose_ to _Britain_?"

"You'll distract Hungary and Japan while we retrieve the footage," Denmark told him.

"Yeah, but can't France do that?" America pointed out.

"I'm the one who will help them find the footage," said France. "After all, I know where Hungary and Japan store most of their videos."

"Draw a map, then, dude!"

"But Amerique, I do not want to do that!"

"Well, I don't want to propose without a good reason!" America said, crossing his arms indignantly.

"I wouldn't be able to draw out the proposal as long as you would. Besides, Amerique, didn't you break the Bro Code?"

"But bro, you've had experience proposing to Britain, haven't you?"

"That was because my bosses told me to! Besides, we'd probably launch into another argument, which might not be able to hold Hungary and Japan's attention as well."

"It could, if you make enough pervy comments during it," America pouted. "Give me a better reason, dude."

Finally, Spain spoke up again. "Didn't you say that you're 'the master of proposals'?"

". . . I can't argue with that, bro," America sighed, giving in. Next to him, France and Prussia were congratulating Spain for a job well done. "So, all I have to do is distract Hungary and Japan long enough for you guys to come back with the video, and my violation of the Bro Code will be redeemed?"

"That's the deal," France said.

"When do I have to do it, then?"

"At the next World Meeting," said Denmark, "so we can be sure that they'll all be there."

"But that's tomorrow morning!" America protested.

"Awesome! I knew you'd understand!" Prussia grinned. "We'll see you there, then. With France's help, it will probably take less than ten minutes, but drag it out as long as you awesomely can without losing anyone's interest just in case!"

With this, Spain's bull smashed through the wall and they all hopped on, abruptly fleeing the room. America sighed once more and sat down, wondering how he would be able to make this work.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number. He was immediately answered, to his relief, so he went ahead and said, "Hello? This is America, dude. There's something I want your help on . . ."

He had several calls to make if he was going to pull this off.

* * *

The next morning, Britain walked into the World Meeting only to see a group of puzzled-looking nations standing in the doorway blocking his way in. Frustrated, he pushed his way through, fuming, "Out of my way, you wankers! Don't you know it's rude to—What the . . . ?"

Now he could understand why the other nations were gaping. The meeting table had been covered with a red cloth, decorated with candles, and loaded with _English_ food—scones, roast beef, fish and chips; it was hard to keep track of it all—and, unlike when Britain himself was the one cooking, it actually looked . . . edible? Appetizing? Possibly even delicious? The other nations were too shocked by this revelation to do much other than stare.

Suddenly, the window shattered as America swung in on a rope, a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Britain!" he greeted, oblivious to the stunned state of the room as he shook glass off himself. "So? What do you think of the food I made?"

Wait. _America_ made _Britain's_ food and it turned out edible/appetizing/possibly-even-delicious?

"Y-you git! What is the meaning of all this?" Britain demanded, motioning toward the food.

"Oh, so you do like it!" said America giddily. "Yeah, I had to ask the triumph irate of refined plates for help on this, and it took a lot of time, so I was really hoping that you'd be happy about it."

Never mind, the phenomenon has a reasonable explanation after all.

"It's the 'triumvirate of refined palates', you twat!" Britain snapped. Pausing, his eyes widened as he asked, "Wait, you asked the _frog_ for help?"

"And me, too!" Italy piped up. "Ve, sing him the song, America!"

"Wait, there's a song, too?" Britain blanched as Hungary and Japan congratulated themselves on having had the forethought to install multiple cameras at varying angles in the World Meeting room.

"Yeah, bro!" America confirmed, pulling a guitar out of the bag. "See, it's, uh . . . it's because just words aren't enough to describe how I feel about you!"

"Japan?" Hungary whispered, holding a tissue up to her nose.

"Yes, Hungary-san?" asked the other nation, performing a similar action.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Let's see . . ." Japan swiftly pinched Hungary's arm for her. "How's that?"

"Painful. Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Now let's enjoy the show."

* * *

"Why are there so many doors?" Denmark frowned as they followed France through yet another one. "Well, at least it's not as bad as all the vents we had to crawl through just to get here . . . how does that work, anyway?"

"Don't worry, we're almost there," France assured him, throwing open a final door. "Voila!"

They were led into a compact room filled with ceiling-high shelves containing videos that at least implied boys' love. Under other circumstances, they might've stopped longer to gawk, but since they were on a mission, France quickly pulled them out of their trance and set them to work searching for the video. Despite everything being alphabetized, it took longer than expected to find what they were looking for because everyone except France and Prussia kept forgetting the name of . . . uh . . . that guy with the bear. Yeah, him.

"Hey, I think I found it!" Prussia declared, waving a DVD in the air for the others to see. Pausing to marvel at it, he remarked, "Wow, they were quick to burn it into a disk."

"They seem to have a lot of videos of Romano and me," Spain noted, surveying a whole wall of Spamano videos. The other nations sweatdropped.

"Yeah, yeah, now let's get going," said Prussia, ushering them out. "Maybe we'll still be able to catch some of America's proposal."

* * *

"There you are, you bastard!" Romano frowned upon seeing the four nations finally entering the meeting room. "I was wondering where you went off to."

"Sorry, Romano," Spain smiled, "We must've lost track of time. What did we miss?"

"The usual burger bastard stuff," he shrugged. "Fireworks, guitar solos, airplanes, a burger cannon . . . nothing new."

"America's about to do the big finale!" Italy chirped.

"What?" yelped Prussia, "How do you know about that?"

Italy gave him an uncharacteristically mysterious look. "I helped him."

Before they could question any further, America announced, "Alright dudes, now it's time for one last song that Italy helped me write."

"Not another one . . ." Britain groaned, facepalming.

"Yes, another one!" America insisted, strumming his guitar again. Germany instantly recognized the tune and decided to facepalm as well. "Alright, here goes!"

 _Hey, Britain! Hey, Britain!_

 _Britain, you're a really, really nice place_

Several nations scoffed at this—considering how Britain seemed to be a wet blanket all the time—but continued to listen, nevertheless. Britain glared at them.

 _So I had the try inflate of resigned agates make you food_

 _That doesn't suck like when you cook, dude_

"Hey, that's not our name!" Turkey protested. "How'd he even come up with that?"

"He's right about Angleterre though, non?" France asked.

"My cooking isn't that bad, you frog!"

"Well, your citizens are fine, aru," China assured him, "It's just that every time _you_ , specifically, step inside a kitchen, the ovens spontaneously combust."

 _But we still like you, don't have me misunderstood!_

 _Just don't touch Nantucket, or things might get messy . . ._

"Bloody hell? What's that supposed to mean, you git?"

Ignoring Britain's comment, America continued.

 _Tell me, did you always have a short fuse? I seem to bring out your frustration._

 _It's fun to argue with you because you get really riled up; your ghost stories terrify me_

"Nothing in this song seems to be related at all . . ." Britain muttered.

"Well, my brother _can_ be confusing at times, eh?" Canada replied, not that anyone noticed.

 _Is it the norm to drink a barrel of beer and wind up out of your head?_

 _Feel free to come to my place in large mobs; British accents are awesome!_

There was a collective facepalm, but no one denied it. Well, except Britain himself.

" _You're_ the one with the bloody 'accent', you twat!"

 _But nothing can reach the combined awesomeness of the Awesome Trio!_

 _The Awesome Trio strikes again!_

Said trio took this as their cue to whip out their grappling hooks and flee from the World Meeting once more, except this time with Italy calling after them, "Wait! You were supposed to say 'Burgers!' Not that!"

"Yeah, but you certainly didn't say 'Pasta!' at the end when you sang it to West," Prussia cackled as he, Denmark, and America disappeared off into the distance.

"You told Prussia about it?" Italy asked, turning to Germany.

"He's my Bruder," he sighed. "Also, we have to have a long talk about America's rendition of your song . . ."

"Ve, I tried to get him to follow the rhyme scheme, but he just wouldn't!" said Italy, distraught. "That was as close as I could get him to agree to."

Meanwhile, at a nearby bar, Prussia was admonishing America, "Weren't you supposed to propose to Britain? Though your finale was acceptably awesome, what with our combined awesomeness at the end."

"I mean, we are getting drinks after all, so of course we're not complaining," Denmark said. "But we _are_ curious, you know."

America shrugged. "I saw that you guys had returned with the disk, so I did the finale and that was it, dudes. The proposal would've been kind of unnecessary."

"But what about your violation of the Bro Code?" asked Prussia, frowning. "Proposing to Britain was part of the deal!"

"No, the _deal_ was distracting Hungary and Japan long enough for you guys to complete your mission, remember?" America smiled. "And now my violation of the Bro Code has been redeemed. Thanks, bros!"

Prussia and Denmark facepalmed as America smugly finished his drink.

Back at the World Meeting, Monaco turned to the group of still-gawking nations. "As predicted, someone who was neither Italy nor Prussia sang at the World Meeting today, one of the windows were shattered again, and we're standing in a room of edible British food. Due to this, you all now owe me substantially more money than before."

"What do you mean, ' _edible_ '?" Britain asked, having overheard her recap. "Are you implying that the rest of my food _isn't_?"

"I already told you, it's not your food," China reminded him, "It's just your cooking in particular . . ."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Let's see. Apparently, despite it being Monaco's prediction, the nations who weren't part of the Awesome/Bad Touch Trio, the Gastronauts, or otherwise involved in America's plot *cough*Italy*cough* were extremely dubious about the possibility of edible British food, perhaps due to their experiences with, well . . . China kind of explained it already.**

 **Britain: "I still don't get what's so bad about my cooking . . ."**

 **America: "If it helps, your accent's totally awesome!"**

 **Britain: "Again, _YOU'RE THE ONE WITH THE BLOODY ACCENT_!"**

 **Finally, America's violations of the Bro Code have been redeemed. However, to the Yaoi Army's disappointment, none of the other nations are getting married . . . yet.**

 **Also, yeah, Italy's really upset about America not going by the rhyme scheme in their rewrite of the song. The original song is "Italy's Song to Germany", AKA "Italy's Song for Germany", AKA "That Song Italy Sings in Episode 3 of Hetalia: Axis Powers", AKA "Where Did He get that Instrument from?", AKA— Yeah, you get the gist.**

 **America: "Of course we get it, bro! Oh, and what's a gist?"**

 **Japan: "Moving along."**

 **At the end of "Italy's Song to Germany" in the dubbed anime, he shouts "Yahoo!" Still—**

 **Britain: "He said 'moving along', you git!"**

 **Okay, okay! Hmm, what else to say . . .**

 **"Tire Rum Pirates of Realigned Palettes": Something that just earned me a collective facepalm from Turkey, France, and China. You're welcome!**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* "Japan, I've counted the requests like you requested!"**

 **Japan: "What's the number, Hungary-san?"**

 **Hungary: "Zero. Zilch. Nada. But we've managed with negative eighteen requests and twenty-seven restraining orders before, so this should pose as no problem to our camera-planting, massive shipping escapades! Plus, the reviews are as great as ever!"**

 **Japan: "Arigato. Now, let's embark on another journey that has a fifty-fifty chance of resulting in more restraining orders!"**

 **Hungary: "Alright! Stay awesome!"**

 **Prussia: "Hey, that was my line!"**

 **Hungary: *polishes frying pan* "Are you sure?"**

 **Prussia: *rapidly backpedaling* "You know what? I think the awesome me is just going to go have some more awesome beer instead."**

 **P.S. What would the combined Awesome Trio and Bad Touch Trio be called? The Awesome Touch Five? The Awesome Touches? But since there's five of them that way, I keep thinking of the Nordics . . . . Food for thought. ^J^**


	15. America's Vital Regions

**A/N: Well, the first day of school has been about as awkward and syllabus-filled as expected. Before beginning the chapter, there are two things I'd like to addre—**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* " _JAPAN, I HAVE NEWS_!"**

 **Me: *plugs ears* "Are you looking for Japan or hearing loss?"**

 **Hungary: "Sorry. Do you know where he is, though? I found a _request_! This is so much better than that time we had to run from the police because we hid under America's balcony at midnight on New Year's Eve with a group of violinists to provide romantic background music for when America and—"**

 **Me: "I said _no_ set ships in this story!"**

 **Hungary: "Oops! I'm still going to finish my story, though. Sadly, they didn't kiss or anything because as soon as the music started, America panicked and thought it came from a ghost, so he called the cops and we fled the scene. Tragic, isn't it? The path of boys' love is a difficult one indeed . . ."**

 **Me: "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what's the request?"**

 **Hungary: "Well . . . there are kind of two. The first request is by RainbowRose17, a Guest reviewer who reques—"**

 **Me: "I accept."**

 **Hungary: "Hmm? But I didn't even read you the request!"**

 **Me: "Don't worry, I was about to address that one anyway. Plus, awesome readers, you can look for it in the reviews if you want to see it now or you can wait until Chapter 17 or so. I don't want to spoil the surprise!" ^J^**

 **America: *slides in with a cane and a top hat* "It's easy!" *neon sign lights up in background***

 **Britain: "You git! Be careful with that hat! How'd you fit those signs through the bloody door, anyway?"**

 **America: "I didn't use the door, bro—someone left the floor open, so I flung it in through there."**

 **Britain: "What the . . . you mean this spot now covered in tape?"**

 **America: "That's the one!"**

 **. . . It was a grappling hook. And it was _AWESOME_! (As expected, of course.) Since this A/N is pretty long already, I'll address the other request in the "Notes on this Chapter", which will be at the bottom of the page. For now, here's Chapter 15: in which that question you may or may not have wanted to know the answer to is answered anyway! Also, more references to canon.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Vital Regions**

* * *

"Remind me why I agreed to follow you here . . ." Austria sighed as he followed France, Hungary, and Japan into the bar.

Smiling sweetly, Hungary lifted a bottle of Tokaji wine for the rest to see. "Does this answer your question?"

"Suddenly, I feel a lot less guilty for leading you all here," France noted. "That wine is too good . . . why do you feel the need to blackmail us with it, mon ami?"

Before Hungary could reply, Japan exclaimed, "Look! There they are!"

The Awesome Trio was gathered at the back of the bar, chatting away with each other. It seemed like they'd been at the bar for quite a while, but because they were, well, the Awesome Trio, it was hard to gauge how drunk they were. But then again, their combined awesomeness usually prevented them from getting too intoxicated. However . . .

"Hey Austria, is that you over there? _YOUR VITAL REGIONS ARE MINE_! _KESESESE_!"

Austria facepalmed. Japan sweatdropped. France started "ohonhonhon"-ing. Hungary simply beamed, giddily uncorking the prized Tokaji wine.

Apparently, their combined awesomeness didn't prevent them from acting _as if_ they were a bit tipsy. But then again, wasn't that their usual behavior in a nutshell?

"In case you've forgotten, you don't own Silesia anymore," Austria huffed, accepting a glass of Hungary's—Wait, where'd she get all the wineglasses from? Then again, she and Japan _did_ set up twenty-seven hidden cameras around a busy New York street, so being able to summon a few wineglasses shouldn't be so surprising.

"Yeah, but I don't see you with your precious vital regions, either," Prussia laughed, high-fiving Denmark, "So I'm still considering it a success."

"While we're still on that topic, America, where are your vital regions?" Hungary asked curiously.

"Hungary-san, it's rude to voice such a question out loud," Japan said hastily, his sweatdrop returning.

"What do you mean?" she wondered innocently. "I already learned Prussia and Denmark's."

"Yes, but isn't America's—Wait, when did you learn _theirs_?" said Austria.

"I have a lot of time on my hands," Hungary waved dismissively. "So come on, America! Where is it?"

Despite Austria and Japan's protests, America said, "Dude, I thought I already explained this to you guys—they're _all_ vital regions!"

" _WHAT_?"

"I'm not sure that's how it works, mon cher," France said, sipping at the wine. "Mm, Tokaji wine . . . tres magnifique . . ."

"Uh, yeah it is," America deadpanned.

"But . . . how does that work, America-san?" Japan asked.

"And to think I was so sure they were in Florida," France sighed.

"Well, sure they are," America shrugged, "as well as Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Georgia, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maryland, South Carolina, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York, North Carolina, Rhode Island, Vermont, Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, Louisiana—"

"Kesesese, I think a few minutes have passed since you started listing them—that's so awesome!" Prussia cackled.

"Hey, I'm not done yet!" America pouted. "There's still—"

"We get it, they're all vital regions, now can we get going already?" Austria sniffed, starting to turn around.

"At least stay for some beer!" Denmark insisted, raising his glass. "Prussia's treat!"

"No, there are pressing matters to attend to—and besides, wine is superior," said France. Turning back to America, he exclaimed, "But Amerique, Florida's a _peninsula_!"

"At least half my states have peninsulas, bro," America pointed out, "I mean, sure, Florida's a pretty populous place, but so are California, Texas, New York, and so on. Besides, Texas doesn't look like a pair of glasses to you when you look at a map, does it?"

There was a pause as this notion was considered. Then, surprisingly, it was Austria who broke the silence.

"Are you saying that Texas is both your glasses _and_ part of your vital regions?" he wondered.

"Well, duh," said America. "I mean, they're all pretty important, aren't they, bro?"

"I think you may have misunderstood my question," Hungary said. "You see, what I meant to ask was . . ."

She proceeded to whisper something into America's ears that caused the younger nation's eyes to widen. Then he laughed.

"Oh, _that's_ what you want to find out," he chuckled, dabbing at his eyes. "Alright, bros, I'll tell you the truth . . . _I don't know_."

" _WHAT_?"

"How do you not know where your own vital regions are?" asked Austria.

"Yeah, that sounds totally unawesome, especially for you," Prussia noted.

"Angleterre is always complaining how Amerique's geography sucks, though, non?" France sighed, "So we probably should have seen this coming."

"Where do you think they are, then?" Hungary prodded, not about to give up yet.

"Well, I do have a hunch," America said thoughtfully.

"Really?" said Japan. "Where?"

America grinned. "The Moon!"

Japan sweatdropped. "Surely you mean that object in the sky that we see almost every night, America-san . . ."

"Dude, what other Moon is there?" said America. "Of course my guess is the Moon!"

"But . . . why?" asked Japan.

"For two reasons, bro," America explained, still beaming proudly. "One: none of you have been there before. However—and this is number two, dudes— _they're out of this world_!"

There was a collective facepalm.

". . . Perhaps I'll join you for some more drinks after all, mon ami," France finally gave in, seating himself next to Prussia. "Though I'm still having wine."

"Suit yourself, I'm leaving," Austria announced, turning on his heel only to see Hungary and Japan still trying to control the nosebleeds they'd acquired at some point in the conversation. Sighing, he wordlessly handed over a box of tissues before walking out the door.

When would he find someone sane to hang out with?

"Well, I suppose it's time for some music therapy."

So, Austria returned to his house to furiously vent his frustrations by playing soothing classical music on the . . . you know what? Maybe none of them are really as sane as they'd like to think.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **So, this next request is not exactly a request for future chapters in this fic, but I'll address it here anyway. Hungary?**

 **Hungary: "AphHetaliaLover has requested to use your running gag of Monaco's bets for a chapter in their story of one-shots called 'An Odd Group of Friends'."**

 **Me: *cheers* "Alright! Just credit me, please. And to everyone, feel free to check out AphHetaliaLover's fic!"**

 **Prussia: *pops in* "Because I'm in it, too, and anything with the awesome me in it is—"**

 **" _CLANG_** **!"**

 **Hungary: *polishing frying pan* "What? He was practically asking for it."**

 **Me: "Great, _now_ who's going to do my outro?"**

 **Russia: *pops in* "Hello, friend!"**

 **Hungary: "Don't you still have the rest of the notes to get through first, though?"**

 **Russia: *cue dark aura* " _KOLKOLKOL_ . . ."**

 **Well, let's see what to put in the notes for this chapter (other than dialogue) . . .**

 **"Tokaji Wine": Mentioned in Episode 15: "Mildew for Sweeter Wine!" of Hetalia's Monthly Comic Birz as being Hungary's specialty. France adores it, so naturally, it's used as a form of blackmail in that episode. According to the Wikipedia article "Tokaji", it may refer to wines from either the Tokaj wine region in Hungary or the adjoining one in Slovakia.**

 **France: "Ohonhonhon, but the wine is so good!"**

 **. . . I'm not sure whether or not he's tipsy. Huh. Also, America's listing of the states is going in order of statehood, but sadly, he was interrupted.**

 **According to Wikipedia, the United States of America made six manned Moon landings between 1969 and 1972. To date, it's the only country to have successfully conducted any. (As in, the USA is the only country to have set foot on the Moon, though there were other unmanned missions to the moon by other countries as well.)**

 **America's glasses being Texas and America's geography skills are also references. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps.**

 **Prussia: *regains consciousness* "Stay awesome! Hey, what're you doing you crazy-fac—"**

 **" _CLANG_!"**

 **Hungary: "Russia, that was my cue!"**

 **Russia: *polishes Magic Metal Pipe of Pain* "Oops. Sorry!" ^J^**

 **Hungary: *sighs* ". . . And so was that."**

 **P.S. This chapter was intended to be published on Tuesday, but hey, why not earlier? Also, I just noticed that I said Guest reviewer RainbowRose17's request will likely be Chapter 17, like in the name. Whoa! Additionally, I shall now be seeking opportunities to sneak "someone left the floor open" into conversations. WOOT!**


	16. America's Lawn Service

**A/N: I _FINALLY_ get to post this chapter! WOOT! This is one that I've been looking forward to for awhile, but I've been so busy and—**

 **Prussia: *pops in* "Quit rambling and skip to the awesome part already—which would be the awesome me, of course!"**

 **Uh . . . okay then! Anyway, this chapter contains references to "America's Vital Regions" (Chapter 15) and "America's Nap" (Chapter 9), and also features an appearan—**

 **Prussia: "Again with the rambling! It's totally unawesome, you know."**

 **Hungary: *pops in* *dark aura* "Take it back . . . _take it back_ . . ."**

 **Prussia: "Ack! It's Silesia all over again!"**

 **Notes are at the bottom! ^J^**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers!**

* * *

 **America's Lawn Service**

* * *

" _HOW COULD YOU_?"

The doors to the World Meeting were flung open as a disgruntled nation who was, surprisingly, _not_ America barged in dramatically.

"If it was Angleterre, I might understand," France declared, basking in dramatic lighting as well as the stares of the other nations, "But this level of cruelty is beyond what I'd expect from _you_!"

"Dude, France, what's up?" America asked from his seat, chewing on a burger as usual.

"Don't play the fool with me, Amerique!" exclaimed France. "You know _exactly_ what you did!"

"What did the bugger do this time?" Britain wondered, his curiosity piqued. "I mean, if you've made the frog this distraught, then it must have been something bloody big."

"Well, if you must know," France sniffed, "young Amerique _cut. My. Grass._ He even left a note behind detailing the whole ordeal!"

"Oh, I remember that," said Britain, sipping at his tea. "Yes, I believe I was present for it, too."

"Oi, is that true, America?" Australia asked, turning to said nation with wide eyes. His koala glared over his shoulder.

Finishing his burger, America affirmed, "Yeah, bro! It took _hours_ , but in the end, we totally cut France's grass. It was awesome—want to hear about it? I think I have most of the note memorized, dude, so I could totally try reciting it to you."

"But you can't do that to a mate!" said Australia, leaping to his feet.

"See? He agrees with me!" France said, gesturing at the impassioned nation.

"But dude, it's _France_ ," America deadpanned.

Australia paused. "Good point . . . but that still isn't right!"

"My sentiments exactly," France nodded approvingly, "especially considering how my garage was completely _wrecked_ by the time you were through, Amerique. How did you leave such dents in my lawnmower anyway, mon ami?"

"Wait, you left dents in France's _lawnmower_?" Australia gaped. "That's real impressive, mate. You must've really been giving it your all!"

"The git _does_ have superhuman strength," Britain reminded him, continuing to drink his tea. "I'd be surprised if he _didn't_ break something in the process."

"Like how whenever you try to cook, you always break something in the process?" Latvia commented innocently.

Panicking, Estonia and Lithuania hastily tried to cover up Latvia's question, saying things such as "Heh, he was only kidding, you know? Ah, Latvia, always being the funny one," and "Forgive him, Mr. Britain, it was just a funny joke, yes?" In the background, a mysterious purple aura was expanding around Russia . . .

"It's still no excuse to cut someone else's grass, though," Australia continued before Britain could reply to Latvia's remark. "I would never do that to a mate."

"It was so awesome, though!" Denmark called. "It took a lot of work making that beer, you know."

"I already told you— _wine_ is _superior_!" France shouted. Then he paused. "Wait, you were in on it too? Who else was part of it?"

"Don't worry, it was only we Awesome Trio members plus Britain," Prussia grinned, indicating the other nation with his thumb. " _We_ wanted to show you the awesomeness of beer. _He_ wanted to witness it. Plus, you didn't think America _alone_ could accomplish that level of a mess, did you?"

"You as well, mon ami?" said France. "You wound me."

"But now you finally can't ignore the awesome power of beer. Kesesese!" he cackled.

"Oi, but that doesn't give you the excuse to go and cut another mate's grass!" Australia protested.

"Our combined awesomeness justifies it," Denmark explained, "and it wasn't easy to do, either. That grass put up a real fight—we got stains all over our pants. But it was totally worth it, of course, in the name of beer!"

"You could've at least cut it in the shape of a wineglass," France muttered.

"Dude, that would kind of defeat the whole point," replied America.

"You're kind of sending mixed signals here, mate," said Australia.

"Sorry," France said, resuming his indignant expression, "Now, you better plan on fixing my lawn or else I'll set Pierre on you!"

Prussia scoffed. "Nein! There's no way we're getting rid our awesome handiwork, and in case you forgot—"

" _PIERRE_!" France called before Prussia could finish his statement.

Immediately, a little white ball of fluff came barreling through the window, sending glass flying around the World Meeting.

Germany smacked his hands on the table. "Hey, windows cost money, you know!"

"Ve, calm down! Would you like some pasta?" Italy offered.

"There's no way you're giving pasta to that potato bastard!" said Romano.

Ignoring them, France commanded his bird, "Pierre, _ATTA_ —huh?"

Instead of mercilessly pecking at the Awesome Trio plus Britain—well, _especially_ Britain—like France had intended, his bird was flying circles around Prussia's head with . . .

"I was going to remind you that in case you forgot, Gilbird and Pierre are friends," said Prussia as the two fluff balls circled him, "and ja, it's totally unawesome that you forgot. I mean, didn't we even schedule for them to meet up over the weekend? Kesesese!"

For a while, the nations simply stared, not sure how to respond.

Before the room could descend into complete silence, Monaco piped up, "Denmark, could you please tell us exactly what occurred with France's lawn?"

"Hmm? Alright, I'm happy to tell!" the addressed nation chirped cheerily. "Though of course, it takes our combined awesomeness to be able to tell this story right. Anyway, when we went to the bar yesterday, France and some other nations followed us, and he was drinking _wine_."

"Which, as you all know, is totally unawesome!" Prussia cut in, "Especially since he spent the whole night praising it."

"Well, my Tokaji wine _is_ pretty amazing," said Hungary pointedly. "If you wanted any, you could have asked."

"Yeah, yeah," Prussia waved dismissively. "Wine might be 'pretty amazing', but beer is _awesome_. But since France doesn't seem to realize that, we decided to _show_ him the awesome powers of beer!"

"By cutting his grass?" Australia asked dubiously.

"Totally, dude!" said America, jumping up in excitement. "We mowed his lawn into the awesome shape of a giant beer, like the one they drew on my face a while ago—it was wicked rad, bro! But I kind of ran the lawnmower into the fountain . . ."

"So, we left a note explaining it," Denmark said, "but America was the only one who signed it."

"It went 'Searched through your garage for a lawnmower, used it, and sort of smashed it into a fountain—but don't worry, it's not drunk! Why is your garage so big, anyway? P.S. Look outside.' We would've made it longer, but we ran out of time," America recalled. "Oh, and 'P.P.S. _BEER_! _BEER_! _BEER_!' . . . Prussia added that one."

" _IT WAS THE GARDENS OF VERSAILLES_!" France exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how much work goes into them? Like my hair, such beauty takes work and _effort_ to maintain!"

As France, Britain, and the Awesome Trio continued their squabble—which ended with France and Britain strangling each other once again as the Awesome Trio watched with popcorn—Australia walked over to Monaco, who was collecting money from a group of other nations. Curious as to why he hadn't been involved in the betting this time around, he wondered, "Oi, what bet did you win this time?"

"She predicted that you'd take France's side in an argument today, aru," China sighed as he handed over the cash. "Seriously, why are we even trying to bet against her at this point . . . ?"

"I know what can solve _all_ your problems, comrade," Russia said, appearing behind them with his dark aura still intact. Cheering, he declared, "Magic Metal Pipe of Pain!"

Sweatdropping, China assured him, "Uh, I don't think that's necessary, aru."

So, it was just another regular World Meeting after all.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **As I was _going_ to say, this chapter also includes an appearance by Pierre! (I hope that that previous sentence is grammatically correct . . .) Also, the "but don't worry, it's not drunk!" in America's note may or may not be considered a reference to "America's Car's Fate" (Chapter 10).**

 **"Cutting Grass": In Australian slang, it describes a bad thing that you shouldn't do involving someone else's partner, so don't do it!**

 **Japan: *sweatdrop* "How . . . uh . . . specifically vague of you . . ."**

 **Yep! And in America(n slang), "cutting grass" usually refers to literally "cutting grass"—as in trimming someone's lawn. Or giving someone's yard a "haircut". With a lawnmower. Or scissors. Or toenail clippers. However you cut it.**

 **"The Gardens of Versailles": A very fancy place located in Versailles, France. As the name and France's outrage implies, these gardens are meticulously cared for and include several fountains, among various other things.**

 **So, this chapter came a little late, but don't worry—Chapter 17 should probably be up sometime Friday, so yay! Oh, and Hungary?**

 **Hungary: *looks up* "Hmm?"**

 **Me: "I have a message for you from Guest reviewer RainbowRose17. As you may recall, the upcoming chapter is their request, so . . ."**

 **Hungary: "Alright, what's the message?"**

 **Me: "Let's see . . . RainbowRose17 thinks your awesome, and warns you that if you're not careful, they might start shipping you with Japan."**

 **Hungary: "What do you mean by 'start'? Japan already ships me with a bunch of people!"**

 **Me: *facepalm* "Yeah, I don't think that's what they meant . . ."**

 **Hungary: *polishes frying pan* "Are you calling me unshippable?"**

 **Me: *rapidly backpedaling* "No, no, not at all! HAHAH— Yeah, it was just a funny joke, right? Of course it was!"**

 **Hungary: "Okay then!" ^J^**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome, kesesese! Wait, Hungary, what're you—"**

 **" _CLANG_!"**


	17. America's Proposal Guidance

**A/N: *cue [ _insert adjective here_ ] music* Ta-da! The requested chapter is finally up! (Also, it's Friday!)**

 **America: " _Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on_ —NHMMNUMGH!"**

 **Britain: *muffling America* "Not on my watch, you git!"**

 **America: "But aren't you looking forward to the weekend, weekend?"**

 **I hope I did the request justice . . . . This chapter includes references to "America's Writing Skills" (Chapter 12) and . . . possibly ship tease? Notes are at the bottom!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Proposal Guidance: Requested by Guest reviewer RainbowRose17**

* * *

". . . 'For these, "German Sparkle Party" and "I Like to Move It" seem to work the best, though if these songs do not suit your love interest, feel free to choose another one, though it is essential that your flash mob includes you performing a ballet solo in order to show your love interest your dedication to them'," Austria read from his comfortable position on his living room couch. Thoughtfully, he muttered, "Well, we Germanics _do_ get together for many German Sparkle Parties . . . but perhaps a classical cover of the song using the piano would be more tasteful? And I have some experience in ballet, so that part shouldn't be a problem . . ."

"Did somebody mention . . . a ' _PROBLEM_ '?" a voice called, causing Austria to bolt upright just as America smashed through his window, laughing loudly. "Well, that's what the Hero's for, dude!"

"You just smashed my _window_! This is almost as bad as the time we had that coffee shortage," Austria fumed, gesturing wildly at the shattered glass. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to get it all out of the carpet?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Prussia as he and Denmark broke in through different parts of the wall, to Austria's horror. The Awesome Trio had been stalki— _AHEM_ , they had been _observing_ him because he was on their totally awesome list of dudes to prank. But Austria didn't need to hear that part, because then that would totally defeat the whole point of catching him by surprise. "Anyway, we noticed that you've been reading a relationship guide. Let's see . . . _The Beginner's Guide to Relationships: for the Hard Hearted German_? Oh, I know that one—that's totally awesome! Can I borrow it?"

Denmark elbowed him to make sure that his fellow member of the Awesome Trio wasn't overplaying it. Fortunately, Austria didn't seem to notice.

"If you want to read it so much, you could just get your own copy," he huffed.

"Well, why're _you_ reading it?" asked Denmark. For good measure, he bluffed, "I have my own copy, because I'm awesome—and also because I'm trying to work on my relations with the other Nordics."

"But you don't seem like the 'Hard Hearted' type, bro," America pointed out.

"I'm a Germanic, though!" grinned Denmark.

"Really? Could you point it out to me, dude?" America asked curiously, pulling out a map from—Okay, so yeah, he may suck at geography, but why does he have a map in his possession at times like _this_?

"All of these are _your_ states," Denmark frowned. "I'm nowhere on the map!"

"No, the awesome _me_ is nowhere on the map," Prussia interrupted bitterly, "which is totally unawesome! Well, at least there's New Prussia and King of Prussia, which are both awesome enough but of course they're still not as awesome as the aweso—"

"If I tell you why I'm reading the book, will you stop your monologue?" Austria cut in rubbing at his forehead in exasperation.

Prussia paused for a moment, mulling it over. "Ja, I guess—but if you don't, I'll start over and make it twice as long, kesesesese!"

"Alright then," Austria agreed, eyeing them warily. "I want to propose to Hungary."

" _WHAT_?"

"You heard me the first time, so quit gaping!" he snapped.

"We should've totally seen it coming, dudes," said America, "I mean, he _did_ give her presents on Valentine's Day . . ."

"Wait, how'd you hear about that?" Austria asked, alarmed.

". . . and they _do_ spend a lot of time together," Denmark added, ignoring Austria's question. "Doesn't Hungary also help him clean?"

"I'll have you know that I do my _own_ cleaning," he protested, though his statement still went unnoticed.

Prussia nodded in agreement with the other members of the Awesome Trio. ". . . _and_ she's the only one who can stand his boring classical—"

"Never mind!" Austria exclaimed, finally being acknowledged by the other nations in the room. "I was only considering doing it to bring back Austria-Hungary, anyway—we were a great power of Europe, you know. It was purely political!"

"Whatever you say," said Denmark, though it's hard to tell whether or not he really meant it. "But if _you_ don't have the guts to propose, then _we'll_ just have to do it for you!"

"Ja, well—Wait, _what_?" Austria nearly gagged. Recomposing himself, he assured them, "I don't really think that's necessary . . ."

"Too late for that, bro!" America shouted as they escaped through the walls and windows once more. "The plan has already been set into motion!"

"But it's been less than a minute!" said Austria, though they were already out of sight. "Well, at least it's quiet now. Besides, what sort of damage could the three of them possibly do?"

Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Austria sighed as he went to answer it, though at least he knew it wasn't the Awesome Trio—they usually considered themselves too awesome to ring his doorbell. Still, considering they were the _Awesome_ Trio, he was more shocked than he probably should have been when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door.

"Hello, Austria!" Hungary chirped, stepping inside.

"What are you doing here?" asked Austria, though he let her in. "I thought you were on another mission with Japan today."

"Well, America appeared with a bunch of horror movies and demanded that Japan watch them with him, so Japan reluctantly agreed—we weren't capturing much good footage anyway; have I mentioned that the Yaoi Army has been suffering recently? Anyhow, after he and America left, I stayed around for a little longer before someone stuffed me into a burlap sack and carried me away upside-down. I think I was able to get a few good hits with my frying pan, but then two seconds later, they threw me onto your doorstep so I thought I might stop by."

". . . Ja, well I don't think I caught any of that," Austria stated. But before Hungary could reply, the lights suddenly went out. "What in the . . . ?"

"Ooh, how mysterious!" Hungary said excitedly. "What do you think is going to happen?"

As if to answer the question, a single light bulb flicked on in the middle of the room, casting a spotlight over a number of suddenly-sparkly countries that might take a while to be listed from left to right, but that will be listed anyway in that order and in quick succession, so buckle up because here they go: _Luxembourg-Belgium-Netherlands-Britain-Liechtenstein-Switzerland-Germany-Prussia-America-Denmark-Norway-Sweden-Finland-Iceland_. There! You were warned.

Before Austria could question this turn of events any further, Prussia voiced a phrase that he was _very_ familiar with.

 _Ja, is this a party? Kesesese!_

Austria's mouth opened and closed without making any noise as the beat came on and the Germanic nations started to go through the song's chorus. Eventually, he managed, "Wait, you're throwing a German Sparkle Party without me?"

Then he remembered that _Hungary_ was also present.

"Wow, they're so shiny!" she marveled. "But America and Finland aren't Germanics . . ."

"We have to complete the Nordics and the Awesome Trio, though!" Denmark laughed, though his glittery tie was promptly yanked downward by Norway.

"Just stick to the German Sparkle Party," he warned. Then, hearing his cue, he asked, sounding semi-sarcastic, " _Do you like to party, party?_ "

" _Yeah, Norge, I like to party, party_ ," Denmark grinned. Norway rolled his eyes. Turning to Sweden, he asked, " _Do you like to dance-y dance?_ "

" _Yes, I wore my party pants_ ," Sweden deadpanned, which Finland cheerily and Iceland less-than-enthusiastically echoed.

 _Party pants, party pants, party pants_

 _Party pants, party pants, party pants . . ._

In the back of his mind, Austria mourned not having brought his own party pants with him, but currently, he was too mortified at the notion that the Awesome Trio were seriously going through with what was apparently their plan to react. Then he noticed the nation hidden in the corner of the room.

". . . And Japan is _recording_ this?" he guffawed. From his position, Japan gave a small wave before returning his focus to the camera.

America simply flashed him a smile and said, " _Yes I wore my cowboy boots_ —"

"They're supposed to be _rubber_ boots, you git!" Britain said indignantly.

Still, America continued, making a point to emphasize each "cowboy", " _Cowboy boots to dance-y dance,_ cowboy _boots and party pants!_ "

"I told you we shouldn't have invited him," Britain sighed as America let out a loud laugh.

" _Do you like to dance?_ " asked Luxembourg.

" _Yes, I like to dance_ ," Belgium chirped. " _Big Brother, do you like to party?_ "

Complying, the Netherlands sighed, "Fine . . . _I love to party._ "

But what really did it for Austria was when Switzerland and Liechtenstein started to alternate saying the phrase " _hardcore party_ " for a total of eight times altogether—by that time, Austria had already passed out onto the floor, perhaps due to the massive nosebleed he'd acquired at some point during the flash mob. Germany frowned.

"Uh, Bruder, shouldn't we be seeking help . . . ?"

"For him or for us?" Britain asked.

"Do not worry," said Japan, "Those who aren't used to Yaoi-induced nosebleeds yet tend to pass out early on. He'll be fine."

"Though he might have a headache later on," Hungary added.

"Austria may have quit on us and ruined our awesome plan of having him propose, but we must finish what we started," Prussia cackled. "Now, _do you like to Sparkle Party?_ "

Finally, Germany gave in, deciding that he wasn't really in the mood to hear about his Bruder's role in Austria's love life. "Ja, _I love to Sparkle Party._ "

So it came to be that Hungary pulled out her own camera to record the German Sparkle Party from another angle and America laughed his way through the rest of the song with several sequin-covered nations fuming/facepalming/glaring intimidatingly at him.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **RainbowRose17 requested a sequel to "America's Writing Skills" (Chapter 12), for someone to actually follow the instructions (listing Denmark as a possible candidate, so of course he appears in the impromptu German Sparkle Party!), Austria's reaction to the book, or Austria following the instructions—or all of them!**

 **So, this chapter is sort of like a sequel to "America's Writing Skills" (Chapter 12), with the Awesome Trio, some Germanic countries, and Finland carrying out the instructions on Austria's behalf. WOOT! What do you think? And _was_ it ship tease? (Since I'm really not sure what to make of it at this point . . .)**

 **Also, to Guest reviewer Amelie, I think the next chapter might fulfill that request toward the end—well, sort of. You'll see! ^J^**

 **" _The Beginner's Guide to Relationships: for the Hard Hearted German_ ": Only the awesomest relationship guide, like, ever!**

 **Poland: *pops in* "Like, totally!"**

 **"Luxembourg-Belgium-Netherlands-Britain-Liechtenstein-Switzerland-Germany-Prussia-America-Denmark-Norway-Sweden-Finland-Iceland": A dance group consisting of some Germanic countries, the three members of the Awesome Trio, and the five Nordics. The members of this dance group have their names listed based on their order of appearance from left to right and, as far as I'm aware, _still_ haven't changed out of their German Sparkle Party clothes.**

 **Iceland: "What? They're comfortable."**

 **Liechtenstein: "The sparkles are pretty. What do you think, Big Bruder?"**

 **Switzerland: "Looks like sparkles."**

 **Liechtenstein: "I'm glad you like them!"**

 **"German Sparkle Party": A song by The Something Experience. Also, something that the Germanic nations apparently throw together every now and then.**

 **Prussia: "Ja, is this a—"**

 **Germany: "Bruder! We just finished one ten minutes ago! Let us at least catch our breath first!"**

 **Prussia: "Yeah, yeah, but awesome waits for no one! _I like German—_ "**

 **Denmark: *pops in* "Oh, I guess I can do the outro, then! Stay aweso— _ACK_! Sorry!"**

 **Norway: *strangling Denmark by his tie* "You should be."**

 **. . . Okay then. Anyway, feel free to request and review, b—**

 **America: *pops in* "Because we're all about freedom at my place, bros!"**

 **Me: *sweatdrop* "Uh . . . alright? Well, since you're here, do you want to redo the outro?"**

 **America: "That's what the Hero is for, so stay awesome, dudes!"**


	18. America's Trip to Starbucks

**A/N: I wrote this chapter in advance, but the ending's been extended a bit in order to fulfill Guest reviewer Amelie's request. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Prussia: "What? Are there really no awesome conversations in the Author's Note this time?"**

 **Me: "Well, I guess—"**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* "Where in the world is Japan? And why are there so many doors here?"**

 **Prussia: "We could say the same about your freaky Yaoi lair . . ."**

 **Hungary: "Hmm?"**

 **Prussia: "Nein, it was nothing! Kesesese!"**

 **Hungary: "Whatever you say! But anyway, since you're here, I might as well share the news—it's about the reviews! They're reached fi—"**

 **Me: "Wait, there are fifty reviews?"**

 **Hungary: "No . . . there are _fifty-one_."**

 **Prussia: "Wow! That's totally awes— Uh, Hungary? I think the author just passed out . . ."**

 **Monaco: *collects money* "As predicted, the elated author has passed out due to extreme levels of excitement . . . or something else entirely. Regardless, the author is currently unconscious, hence I shall proceed to collect my earnings."**

 **Hungary: "Notes are at the bottom!" ^J^**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Trip to Starbucks: Requested by Guest reviewer Amelie**

* * *

"Thanks again for inviting us to Starbucks, America-san," Japan bowed slightly as they walked into the establishment, "I am honored to be your guest."

"No problem, dudes," America grinned as he walked up to the queue. "It's about time I showed you all the awesome powers of coffee!"

"Coffee _is_ pretty amazing, after all," Austria agreed.

"Whatever," Britain frowned, "Let's just get it over with already."

"Wow, you're actually going to order some, aru?" China asked.

Britain glared. "The twat can't get tea right, so I'm stuck with coffee for now. What's it to you?"

"Uh, it's nothing!" China hastily assured him, though in his mind, he added, _Only that I now owe a_ lot _more money to Monaco, aru . . ._

"Chillax, bro," said America, "We just have to wait for the barista to address us. As you can probably tell, this place is swamped, so we have to be patient."

"As if you'd know anything about _patience_ , you git!" he snapped.

"One could say the same about yourself, Angleterre," France pointed out.

Before either of them could respond, however, the barista acknowledged Italy, who was standing nearby chatting with Germany.

"You, with the random bouncing curl-thingy! I haven't seen you here before, so welcome to Starbucks," the barista smiled. "So, what'll you have to order?"

"Ve, this is Starbucks?" Italy asked obliviously, tilting his head to the side as he examined his surroundings. "Oh, it is . . . and I was so sure we were going to Dunkin' Donuts. But anyway, can I have a gelato, please?"

There was a collective facepalm, which startled Italy with the sudden noise.

"Huh? Did something fall?" he sweatdropped—which makes, at least in this fic, Italy: 1, America: 0.

"Only our hopes," Austria sighed.

"I'm sorry, but we're not currently serving gelato," the barista said sheepishly, drawing back their attention. Turning to Britain, he asked, "You, with the eye—"

"I'm warning you, it would not be wise for you to mention them, comrade," Russia said, but it was too late.

"—brows," the barista finished.

And suddenly, loud piano music filled the room . . . . No, not really.

"Do you know how bloody _rude_ it is to address me by my _eyebrows_ , you wanker?" Britain fumed, slapping his hands down on the counter as the other consumers gasped in surprise. "At least show some respect to your customers, you—"

"He'll take anything as long as it's a tall," America piped up, deciding to order for the other nation.

"What makes you think I'd drink it?" asked Britain. "No, if I have to drink anything, it's going to be a _small_ and that's final."

"You heard him, a tall please!" America happily repeated.

"Oh, get your hearing checked, you twat!" Britain said.

"Whoa, your accent's so cool!" the barista interrupted excitedly. "Wow, are you from Britain or what?"

"Obviously, because I'm a perfect _gentleman_ ," he huffed. In the background, France simply shook his head. "And being a perfect gentleman, _I_ for one, don't go around asking people about their origins! In fact, to make it even, I should be inquiring as to where _you're_ from, you git!"

Raising his right hand, the barista pointed to the lower right edge of his palm and grinned, "Dude, I'm from here!"

Britain was about to say something else, though instead he paused to gawk. "How is that physically _possible_?"

The barista shrugged. "Well, when two people—"

"We don't want to hear the details, aru!" said China.

"Speak for yourself," France smirked. "So, mon ami, as you were saying?"

"About what?" the barista blinked.

"You know, about the details surrounding your glorious welcoming into the world," France said, posing dramatically. But when the barista still didn't seem to know what the nation was referring to, France sighed and said, "You were telling us about how and where you were born."

"Oh yeah, around the south end of Detroit," he said cheerily.

"Wait, really?" a customer behind the nations spoke up, holding up her own hand and pointing to the edge of her pinkie. "I'm from _here_! Though it's a small town, so you might not know where I'm talking about . . ."

Britain facepalmed. "Great, another wanker . . ."

"Hey, don't hurt Michigan!" America, the barista and the customer protested.

In the background, Britain stared at his own hand, wondering, "Wait, it was _another_ bloody misunderstanding? What in the—"

"I actually just left it via train to go on a vacation here," the customer admitted, not noticing Britain's annoyance.

The barista leaned forward curiously. "Really?"

And suddenly, loud piano music filled the room . . . . And yes, it's true this time. But it also startled just about everyone in the building and a few people wound up spilling hot coffee on themselves, so . . .

"I had no idea we had a piano here, bro!" America exclaimed delightedly, recognizing the song. "That's totally awesome!"

"Yeah, well, I kind of just found it," Austria admitted as he continued to play the beginning of "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. "Hey Britain, do you want to do the guitar in—"

" _NO_!" someone shouted, but surprisingly, it wasn't Britain.

Austria's piano-playing jolted to a halt, to his exasperation. "Why do you feel the need to interrupt my song? I was just about to—"

He abruptly cut off his sentence when he saw that the frustrated manager of the joint had come storming out, and he looked muy muy furioso. Pushing the piano into a back room, he snapped, "This is supposed to be _Starbucks_ and _Starbucks_ is supposed to have a _peaceful_ atmosphere, and as you may have noticed, _this is not a peaceful atmosphere_! So get out!"

"Don't forget your order!" the barista called, handing over the drink to Britain as the nations scampered out of the building.

"What? This is _definitely_ too big to be a small!" said Britain, gaping at the drink as they sprinted into the distance. Next to him, Japan shuddered.

". . . America-san's serving sizes are really a force to be reckoned with."

Back inside the establishment, the manager turned around to see many still-shocked customers eyeing him. Recomposing himself, he said, "My sincerest apologies for the interruption. Um, for compensation, each of you may have . . . uh . . . a free drink, if you would like."

He stared at the consumers and they stared at the manager until, finally, one man stood up, readjusting his tie and clearing his throat. " _Just a small town girl_ . . ."

" _Two_ free drinks," the manager offered, but he was drowned out when the other customers and even the barista himself joined in:

 _Living in a lonely world_

Giving up, the manager marched off and slammed the door behind him as everyone else in the building contently continued their singing. Closing himself inside his office, he sighed, thinking that he might as well get some paperwork done while the joint was in the middle of an impromptu sing-along . . .

. . . Only to come face-to-face with someone else inside the room.

"I told you that today, your customers and barista would erupt into spontaneous song," Monaco said smugly, "hence you now owe me a large percentage of your specific store's income for the next week."

"But that's preposterous!" he exclaimed. "No. I refuse."

"You're the one who offered it first," said Monaco, "so you have to accept the consequences. Besides, it's only for a week. Aren't you a man of honor?"

"Is there any alternative?" the manager asked hopefully.

"Well, you _could_ hand over the recipes to every single thing on your secret menu . . ."

"Fine, you'll have the percentage," he gave in. The secret menu was just too precious.

She grinned. "That's what I thought."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Guest reviewer Amelie's request was for Monaco to win a bet and for her opponent to refuse to pay.**

 **However, because she's Monaco . . . Monaco still wins from the situation. ^J^ And the Starbucks and Michigan things are things I've been planning on getting to for awhile now, so I'm pretty excited!**

 **As for Guest reviewer Marzue's request, sure! Your headcanon will probably appear sometime in the next two chapters, so that would probably be around Chapter 20. However, I'm warning you that I might tweak it a bit . . . you'll see!**

 **And as for Guest reviewer RainbowRose17, I'm so glad that you enjoyed the previous chapter! It was very fun to type. Your new request will probably appear as Chapter 3 of a new fanfic that I'm going to also be posting sometime today, so look out for that! It's also a pretty crack-y fic, and though it won't be as America-centered, America will still make appearances in it!**

 **Britain: *shudders* "So . . . many . . . exclamation points . . ."**

 **America: "Yeah, isn't it totally awesome, dude?"**

 **Japan: "I suppose it is only natural that America's amount of exclamation points also comes in extra large . . ."**

 **"Don't Stop Believin'": A song by the American band Journey. The two lines after the ones sung by the Starbucks customers are " _Just a city boy_ / _Born and raised in South Detroit_ ".**

 **"Starbucks": An American coffeehouse chain with stores in various countries and territories, according to the Wikipedia article titled "Starbucks".**

 **"Secret Menu": A thing that may or may not exist at Starbucks. I don't really know.**

 **"Michigan": A state in the US that's shaped like a hand/mitten. Here in the US, at least, people from said state will sometimes—or oftentimes—hold up their right hand and point to what part of Michigan they're from. In the 2010 version of _The Karate Kid_ , when asked for his name in (inaccurate) Chinese, a passenger on a plane responds "Dude, I'm from Detroit". But he doesn't point to it on his hand, which I find somewhat disappointing.**

 **In Starbucks nomenclature, a "small" is a "tall", a "medium" is a "grande", and a "large" is a "venti".**

 **Japan: *sweatdrop* "So, that would be 'large', 'extra large', and 'super large'."**

 **Prussia: "Yeah, yeah! But now I can finally do the outro again, so stay awesome!"**


	19. America's Language

**A/N: Well, might as well say it now—no, I'm not from Michigan, though I've met several people from that state and it seems like a pretty cool place.**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* "Hi, have you seen Japan?"**

 **Me: "No, but at least you didn't cut me off this time. What is it?"**

 **Hungary: "It's the follows and favorites . . . they're . . . they're . . ."**

 **Me: "They're what?"**

 **Hungary: " _We've passed thirty of each_! And— Hey, are you okay?"**

 **Me: "Yeah, just spazzing out in joy. That's so awesome!"**

 **Hungary: "Yes! I'd stay longer, but my yaoi senses are tingling, so . . ."**

 **You're amazing, you know that? Also, I have (finally) posted the first chapter of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ , another crack-ish fic that doesn't revolve entirely around America but still features America, of course. So, each week you will probably receive at least one update for both _America's What?_ and _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ , so you'll probably have at least two updates per week altogether—that is, at _least_ , so I wouldn't be too surprised if there winds up being three or four. ^J^**

 **Anyhow, because of all the awesome requests and reviews, I've shifted things a bit so that Guest reviewer Marzue's request will actually be fulfilled in _this_ chapter, as well as the one by Guest reviewer Phyllis. InsideMyBrain's request will probably be fulfilled around Chapter 21 because it goes along with another Canada-related idea *hint*hint* that I have for Chapter 20, so look out for those! Notes and translations are at the bottom!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Language: Requested by Guest reviewer Marzue and Guest reviewer Phyllis**

* * *

Monaco and Macau had arrived at the World Meeting earlier than most of the other nations, as France discovered when he stepped in almost an hour before the meeting was scheduled to start—he was planning on working on his hair in front of the bathroom mirror to ensure that it was still gorgeous after the long cab ride he'd taken to the building, and Poland had promised to help him in order to make sure he looked "like, totally fabulous". They seemed to be conversing in the actual meeting room, so France, being naturally curious and because Poland seemed to be running late, decided to listen in for a bit.

"America will definitely arrive with a bag of burgers," Macau was saying as he and Monaco started a new game of poker. "That one's guaranteed."

"Yes, of course," Monaco agreed, "but he'll forget an important part of his meal, eh? I'm betting that it's the coffee."

"And there will be a commotion within ten minutes of him walking in," Macau added.

"It would be still be safe to say that the commotion will come within five, eh?" Monaco pointed out. Macau nodded. "I think Belgium will make a brief comment and then stay silent for the rest of what ensues. You?"

"Agreed," said Macau, nodding sagely. "Switzerland and Liechtenstein won't be around for it, though—it's likely that Switzerland will take the chance to flee early on. Do you think we've figured out enough to bet against the other nations on today?"

"Oui," Monaco said. "However, Switzerland escaping with Liechtenstein is fairly predictable. Perhaps we should instead bet on whether or not France and Britain will be strangling each other today—which they will not."

"That seems practical," Macau inclined his head once more. "It's been awhile since I've bet on the other nations against the other other nations, so I might be a bit rusty."

"Nonsense. You're doing just fine," Monaco assured him. Her voice sounded closer now, to France's puzzlement. Suddenly, the door was flung open and she was staring right at him, to his surprise. "Now, France, did you take a cab here?"

"Er . . . oui," France managed to confirm, trying to recompose himself.

"And you were supposed to meet Poland as well, weren't you?" Macau asked. "It would be to do your hair, of course."

"Yes, I was." _I'm starting to feel kind of violated . . . but strangely impressed._

"Yet Poland is running late, eh? Hence you decided to listen in on us to pass the time," said Monaco. France nodded. Smiling slightly, she acknowledged Macau, "As you have just demonstrated, you are in good condition to be making bets after all."

"But what makes you so certain that Angleterre and I won't rip each other to pieces today?" France wondered.

"Oh, that's simple," Macau smiled mysteriously. "You won't _want_ to."

"What do you mean by that, mon ami?" France asked.

"You will find out soon enough," Monaco told him dismissively. "Poland has likely arrived outside by now with Lithuania, so you might want to go find him."

* * *

France thought twice before reentering the World Meeting when he saw that Britain was armed . . . with a _wand_. And it wasn't a Harry Potter wand, either—it was an _actual WAND_. As in, something that had turned him into a midget for the whole day on April Fools' Day. Yeah, that star-tipped thing? _Horrifying_.

"It seems like they were right," France muttered, not sure what to do. Sure, he thought he made the most gorgeous child ever, but that didn't mean he wanted to _be_ one!

"Well, what're you staring at, frog?" Britain snapped, seeing the other nation gaping in the doorway. "The wand's not for you, you know."

"If not me, then who's it for, Angleterre?" France asked, reluctantly walking in and taking his seat.

Right on cue, America walked in, munching on a large bag of fast food. "Yo, dude, this food is, like, totally kickass! Want some, man?"

"Do you _see_ how the bloody git's been butchering my language?" Britain groaned. Then he gave an ominous grin. "But after all, that's what the wand is for."

"Hmm? You say something, bro?" said America, looking up as Britain started to wave the wand. "What in the . . . ?"

"Angleterre, I don't think that's a good—"

" _PREPARE TO SOUND LIKE BBC_!" Britain exclaimed as the spell took effect on the confused nation. Smirking, he added, "This will teach you to respect my language."

The other nations at the meeting watched as America was surrounded by a shower of magic sparkles. But somehow, said nation managed to remain oblivious to it as he proceeded to chow down on his meal.

"Dude, what're you talking about?" America wondered, biting into another burger. "Hey, anyone else want some of this Mickey D's?"

"Bollocks! It didn't work," said Britain. He paused to think for a moment. "Wait, but I _know_ I saw it take effect . . ."

"Whatever," America said dismissively, hastily finishing off the aforementioned burger. "I don't know about you, bros, but I could really go for some _fika_ right now."

Then several things happened at once, so hold on tight because here we go again:

Prussia gagged on the glass of beer he'd somehow smuggled into the World Meeting; Germany left a long pen streak across his paper from being jolted; Sweden nodded slightly in agreement with America's statement while Finland agreed more enthusiastically beside him; Switzerland cast a dark glare around the room, grabbing Liechtenstein by the wrist and leading her to the elevator, to Hungary's protests; Hungary was battling off her own massive nosebleed using Austria's tissues, which he'd wordlessly passed to her after loudly facepalming; Denmark leapt from his chair and shouted, "I second that!"; Norway, who didn't really have a problem with "fika" and therefore didn't really have a reason to strangle Denmark, went and strangled Denmark by his tie anyway; Iceland sighed and decided to stay quiet for now; Belgium simply smiled and said, "That's great and all, but wouldn't you rather go for some waffles instead?" while the Netherlands and Luxembourg eyed their sister in mild horror. I told you this one was a doozy.

And during all of this, Monaco and Macau, who were engrossed in a poker game and not surprised in the slightest, only glanced up briefly from their cards to cast each other knowing smiles before returning to the game.

"What?" America frowned, noticing their expressions—Italy: 1, America: 1. Huh, it seems like they're tied. "Everyone should appreciate fika, dudes, or at least the smell of fika! . . . Well, except maybe Britain—he says he's not really a fika person—but seriously, we all know he secretly loves it."

"What're you going off about this time, you twat?" asked Britain—he didn't know what this so-called "fika" was, but he was pretty sure he didn't like it. Maybe.

"Only fika, the best thing without alcohol!" Denmark said cheerily.

" _You too_?" Prussia nearly choked on his next swig of beer and finally decided to set the drink down. "But _why_?"

Norway shrugged. "You get used to the taste."

Prussia guffawed. Denmark laughed, patting his fellow member of the Awesome Trio on the back. "Yeah, especially if you have fika almost every day, like we do!"

"Why're you discussing such things in public?" said Germany, mortified by the topic of conversation.

"Jeder kann etwas Zeit für _fika_ verwenden," America deadpanned.

"I'm not sure what you said, but if it involves fika, it _must_ be good!" Denmark grinned.

"Now you guys are really freaking me out . . ." Prussia shuddered. Then he saw the other nations' gapes directed at America and realized what had just happened. "Wait, since when did you speak German? That's totally awesome!"

There was a collective facepalm.

" _Bruder_!" Germany exclaimed.

"Oh, come on, West, it's _German_!" said Prussia, pointing repeatedly at America. "You have to find that pretty awesome!"

"I'm glad your mood's lightened," Finland commented, smiling.

"Hmm," Sweden frowned next to him.

"What do you mean by 'German', bro?" America asked, confused. Shrugging, he said, "Anyway, as I was saying, fika's great! Though it comes to a _slut_ pretty quickly because I try to finish it at a high _fart_ , because that's what the Hero does! It's kind of like with a _slutspurt_ , you know?"

"At least take some time to savor it," Iceland sighed.

"Ég get ekki að því gert!" America protested. "I mean, growing up with Britain as a _kock_ , you've got to do it fast or be _dæmt_!"

"Ohonhonhon, so that's—Wait, _that's_ how you treat your colonies?" France asked, neglecting to acknowledge the line that America had just spouted in _Icelandic_.

"Of course not, frog!" Britain replied, bewildered.

Gesturing at America, France said, "Ah, but then what is young Amerique—"

"Commençons la réunion déjà," America interrupted impatiently, "I still have _un lettre d'excuses_ to that Starbucks manager to _phoque_ after this."

While the other nations gaped for the umpteenth time at that World Meeting, France glanced back at Monaco and Macau's smug expressions before sighing and tapping Britain on the shoulder, "Angleterre, I think this might be your spell's doing after all . . ."

 _And that Monaco and Macau will be a lot richer by the end of this meeting_ , France added in his head, noticing that they'd taken a break from their poker game to collect their boatload of earnings from the a small crowd of nations. He shuddered. _We really have to stop betting against them . . ._

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Britain's wand and France's experience with it is sort of a reference to Episode 11 of Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5) . . . and the beginning of this sentence is starting to sound really dirty in my head. ACK!**

 **Guest reviewer Phyllis requested a Macau vs. Monaco in betting, though I wasn't sure who should win, so instead they're sort of tag-teaming it (in American slang, "tag-teaming" can be synonymous to "working together" instead of alternating between one person and the other—I thought that was interesting). Imagine what kind of power the two of them would have betting together . . .**

 **Guest reviewer Marzue requested a chapter based on their headcanon that, due to America lacking an official language, he often inadvertently switches into other languages without realizing and, afterward, is usually stuck switching between thick accents until he manages to talk it out. But since America hasn't really been switching languages in this fic so far, I did some tweaking, but I hope you still enjoyed it!**

 **The tweaks: In this chapter, America's language-switching is due to the spell Britain cast on him, and will probably wear off eventually. Maybe. Also, note that in some of the sentences in this chapter, America switches between up to three languages, such as in "I mean, growing up with Britain as a _kock_ , you've got to do it fast or be _dæmt_!", in which he switches between English, Swedish, and Icelandic.**

 **"BBC": The "British Broadcasting Corporation". "BBC English" is a term associated with their pronunciation of words.**

 **"Fika": In Swedish, it means "coffee". In German, it means . . . something else that also starts with an "F". ^J^ Well, at least according to some websites. When I put "fika" through German to English Google Translate, it just still said "fika". Sigh. I could've sworn that when I put it through yesterday, it said the "F"-verb, though!**

 **"** **Jeder kann etwas Zeit für fika verwenden": In German, it means "Everyone can use a little time for _fika_ ", though for "fika", America is still speaking Swedish. Note that I used Google Translate for most of these translations, though.**

 **"Slut": Refers to the "end" in Danish and Swedish. In English, well, you might already know what it means in English.**

 **"Fart": Refers to "speed" in Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish. In English, "fart" can refer to the British slang meaning of "blowing off".**

 **"Slutspurt": In Swedish, it usually refers to the "final sale". In Danish, it can also translate to "end rush".**

 **"** **Ég get ekki að því gert": In Icelandic, it means "I can't help it".**

 **"Kock": In Swedish, "kock" means "chef". In English, well, you might already know what it sounds like in English.**

 **"D** **æmt": In Icelandic, "dæmt" means "doomed". Again, you can probably figure out its English homophone.**

 **"** **Commençons la réunion déjà": In French, it means "Let's start the meeting already".**

 **"Un lettre d'excuses": In French, it means "a letter of apology" or "an apology letter".**

 **"Phoque": In French, it refers to the verb "seal", not the animal. It is pretty much a homophone to the German to English definition of "fika". On a side note, "ouate de phoque", which is "seal wadding" in French, sounds like—**

 **Romano: *pops in* "What the fuck? How'd I get here, you bastard? And why have you been tiptoing around all the swear words?"**

 **Me: "Some people are sensitive about them!"**

 **Romano: "Britain and I say them all the time."**

 **Me: ". . . Good point."**

 **Prussia: *pops in* "Stay awesome!"**

 **Romano: "Hey, I was in the middle of a conversation here, potato bastard!"**

 **Spain: *busts through wall* "Don't worry, here's a cheer-up charm that'll make you feel better!"**

 **France: *pops in* " _BAD TOUCH TRIO UNI_ — Hey, what happened to the wall, mon ami?"**


	20. America's Dinner

**A/N: So. Many. REVIEWS! *summons head-sparkles***

 **France: "Hey, that's my thing!"**

 **. . . Oops. Anyway, you guys rock. Seriously.**

 **Oh, and relating to completed requests, Guest reviewer RainbowRose17's request for—**

 **France: "In case you have forgotten, mon ami . . . no spoilers."**

 **Right. Darn it. But anyway, the request was left in the reviews of "America's Proposal Guidance" (Chapter 17)—another request of Guest reviewer RainbowRose17—and has been fulfilled in "Prussia's AdvICE", which is Chapter 3 of my other fic _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_. Feel free to check it out!**

 **America: *fist-pumps* "Because freedom's what it's all about!"**

 **. . . Hey, that rhymed! Anyway, this is the aforementioned chapter that will lead into InsideMyBrain's request(s), so look out for that! The other requests will be acknowledged in the notes at the bottom—and on a slightly unrelated note, I'm so glad you enjoyed "America's Language" (Chapter 19)! It was very fun to type up. ^J^ And in response to the reviewer missycanucks, no, I haven't seen the Gevalia coffee commercial, but I'm going to have to!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Dinner**

* * *

France sniffed the air, his Gastronaut powers tingling.

"Hey, do you smell that?" he asked the other members of the Bad Touch Trio. Spain paused and sniffed as well.

"Yeah, mi amigo, it seems to be coming from the direction of America's office," he agreed.

"Well, I don't smell anything," Prussia frowned, "But I still think we should go check it out, kesesese!"

"Yes, it is our duty!" said Japan, popping up between them and taking them by—awesome—surprise.

"Wow, when did you get here, Japan?" asked Spain.

"We have our own . . . er . . . sense of _smell_ ," Hungary smiled ominously from behind them. Really, they had just picked up the scent of future yaoi-induced nosebleeds on the wind, so they'd followed the trail to where the Bad Touch Trio was currently standing, but the Bad Touch Trio didn't need to know that. "So, America's office, you said?"

"Not anymore," Prussia muttered, seeing her strange expression.

"I'll give you a bottle of Tokaji wine if you come along," Hungary suggested. France jumped at the offer.

"But of course! Come along, now," he said, leading the way. Japan, Hungary, and Spain happily followed. "It's a—"

"Hey! Why're you going along with this?" Prussia interrupted, "That's totally unawesome!"

"Si, but Tokaji wine is on the line," said Spain.

"Ja, _wine_ , not _beer_!" Prussia exclaimed. France paused and turned around.

"Now, now, mon ami," he said, "Just because _we're_ going doesn't mean _you_ have to."

"Really?" said Prussia.

"Oui," France assured him. Walking again, he called back, "But if you don't come, you'll be left by yourself over here, which would be . . . what do you call it? Oh, right—'totally unawesome'."

"Hey! I knew there was a catch," Prussia frowned. Thinking for a moment, he sighed, "Well, I _am_ awesome, so I guess I'm coming too. But I'm not having any of that wine!"

"Suit yourself," Hungary shrugged as they trailed after France.

* * *

America was reading over a recipe when someone knocked on his office door. Grinning, he threw it open, "Awesome, dude, you're here! Well, you're kind of early but—Wait, _France_?"

Said nation nodded. "Oui."

"And Japan, Prussia, Spain, and I," Hungary smiled.

"Oh," America pouted. Well. This was unexpected. Brightening again, he asked, "So, dudes, what brings you here?"

"We smelled—"

"Wait, are you cooking something? Do you have, like, an oven in your office?" Prussia asked, abruptly cutting off Spain when he _finally_ noticed the aroma wafting around the room. Cackling, he added, "That's totally awesome! Can I try putting some beer in it?"

"Sure thing, bro, it's in the other room," America said cheerily, ignoring France's facepalm. "But you'll have to wait. Right now, I'm kind of using it for something else."

"So, is that where the amazing smell is coming from, mi amigo?" Spain asked.

"Yeah, dude!" America confirmed delightedly. "You like it?"

. . . Hold up a sec. _America_ was cooking in his _office_ without the help of the Gastronauts, hadn't burned down the building . . . and it smelled edible/appetizing/possibly-even-delicious?

"You're not hiding Turkey somewhere in the room, are you, Amerique?" France wondered, glancing around for any signs of his fellow Gastronauts hiding in the vicinity.

"Turkey? Naw, you're smelling Canadian bacon!" America grinned.

Let's pause again about here. See, there are several American things out there in the world, such as American football, American international fast food restaurants . . . and American _accents_. So, when he said "Naw, you're smelling Canadian bacon" . . .

" _W-WHAT_?"

. . . The nations' trains of thoughts changed from "Wow, he can cook?" to "Wait, he's cooking What's-His-Face in the next room?"

"Well, why wouldn't I?" America asked, oblivious to their gawking as he started to skim through his recipe again. "Now, do you guys want to help me or what?"

"B-but he's your brother!" Prussia protested. "This probably goes against the Bro Code in so many ways . . ."

"We have so many ships with him, too," Hungary added, pouting.

"Chillax, dudes, I'm just having him for dinner," America shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."

"' _Not that big a deal_ '?" France repeated. "Amerique, I think we need to have another talk about your eating habits . . ."

"France, dude, the last time you talked to me about my 'eating habits', the whole thing took two hours and had to be censored out," said America. "So thanks for trying to help me diet, but I'll pass, 'kay bro?"

"I think he was referring to your choice of dinner, America-san," Japan sweatdropped.

"Yeah, Canada wasn't too excited about the idea, either," he said thoughtfully. "He agreed to help in the end, though."

"He _agreed_?" France exclaimed. "Again, where did I go wrong? It _must_ be Britain's fault, right?"

Prussia rolled up his sleeves, preparing to burst into the other room. "That's it, let's—"

Suddenly, the door flew open and Canada backed out covered in soot, dousing the oven room with the contents of a fire extinguisher. Kumajiro obediently stepped out beside him.

As the other nations stared, he finally set down the extinguisher after a good minute of spraying, straightened his glasses, and, noticing the looks he was receiving, sweatdropped, "Oh, hello."

"Dude, what happened to you?" America frowned.

"Just because I agreed to help you doesn't mean I want to be doing all the work, you know!" Canada huffed. Holding up a charred bag labeled "Canadian Bacon", he added, "And by the way, you're supposed to take it _out_ of the packaging first. Also, you owe me some new clothes."

"On it, bro!" America whooped, grabbing Canada by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. "That shopping isn't going to do itself!"

"I didn't mean _now_!" Canada yelped, though of course, his statement went largely unnoticed as he was pulled out into the streets. "Maple . . ."

Still inside America's office, the remaining nations gathered around the ruined meal.

"I _knew_ Amerique sadly inherited Angleterre's cooking abilities," France sighed.

"Si, it's very sad indeed," Spain nodded in agreement.

Again, Prussia found himself saying to the other members of the Bad Touch Trio, ". . . Let's agree to never speak of this again."

There was the click of a recording device.

"Speak for yourself," said Hungary as they turned to look at her and Japan. Thrusting a bottle of Tokaji wine into France's hands, she called back as she and Japan fled the scene as well, "Here's your Tokaji wine! You can enjoy it while we burn the audio onto a CD!"

". . . Yeah, I think I agree with you, mi amigo," Spain said to Prussia. "France?"

Said nation had already started downing the drink. "Mm, this Tokaji wine is marvelous . . . as is to be expected, of course."

His companions sweatdropped.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **. . . I just saw the commercial. And let me just say . . . BEST. MINUTE-LONG ADVERTISEMENT. _EVER_. Seriously! I'm pretty sure it tops anything I've ever seen in the commercials in the Superbowl. But I wonder how Sweden feels about it . . .**

 **Sweden: "Hmm? It makes me crave fika. With fika cake. Maybe I'll have some fika with Finland and Hanatamago later."**

 **Me: " _Can_ dogs have fika?"**

 **Sweden: "Everyone can fika."**

 **Me: "But the internet says that caffeine can be fatal to dogs . . . which includes tea _and_ fika."**

 **Britain: "What? But it's bloody _tea_!"**

 **Germany: *pops in* "To hell with your tea!"**

 **Sweden: "See? Even Germany likes fika."**

 **Germany: "W-what? Nein! _Lies_!"**

 **Whatever you say! And I think that might be the longest conversation I've heard Sweden have before . . .**

 **Sweden: *deadpan* "Everyone has to have their daily dose of fika."**

 **Germany: "How can you say that in _public_?"**

 **"Canadian Bacon": It's a food product and the name of a comedy film made in 1995. In relation to the food, though, according to Wikipedia, "Canadian bacon" is apparently what the US calls what Canada calls "back bacon", "bacon" is what Canada calls US "bacon", and "Canadian" "bacon" bacon is closer to ham in preparation.** **But I'm pretty sure its definition might've been lost in translation because hey, it's bacon and I'm getting Hungary for some Turkey dipped in Greece served on China, though I might have to USA bigger dish if I also want a Canada soup. Though you can't Russia meal like that, so there's almost Norway I'll be able to Finnish it! Hmm . . .**

 _ **PUN ALERT.**_ **^J^ Admittedly, though, I got most of those puns from the comment section of the YouTube video "Hatafutte Parade: Turkey (eng sub)"—seriously! The comments there are _brilliant_.**

 **Well, these notes have been pretty long. But anyway, time to address some requests! (Half rhyme/slant rhyme, anyone? *nudge*nudge*)**

 **Britain: "Just get on with it already, you twat!"**

 **. . . Fine. Anyhow, the requests of InsideMyBrain and GuardianGirl24 will likely be fulfilled in the next chapter.** **After that, though, plans are kind of vague, but I'm pretty sure that the requests of Guest reviewers Daisy Cammelle, Elsa, and RainbowRose17 as well as reviewer nightwing5723 will be fulfilled sometime within the next five chapters, though I might wind up mashing some of them together. And though RainbowRose17's new request is sort of fulfilled in the notes of this chapter, I'm not quite counting it as "fulfilled" just yet.**

 **Prussia: *pops in* "I sensed a vague sentence. Lame-o!"**

 **Germany: *facepalm* " _Bruder_! Mein Gott . . ."**

 **In reference to Guest reviewer Daisy Camelle, I know you meant them separately, but I might fulfill both of your requests within the same chapter. Or not. Maybe? I really don't know. But we'll see! ^J^ In the meantime . . .**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome, kesese— Hey, I think we broke West again!"**


	21. America's Clothes Shopping

**A/N: The seventies. We're in the _SEVENTIES_ for reviews! And they're all amazing, as usual! That's, like—**

 **Poland: *pops in* "—totally fabulous?"**

 **Me: "I was going to say 'totally awesome', but that works too!"**

 **Poland: "Great! Now can someone, like, tell me how exactly I got here? Since I was totally out shopping with Liet before this . . ."**

 ***sweatdrop***

 **Also, we're officially in the twenties when it comes to chapters, and the thirties for both follows and favorites. You're amazing! Random note, though—this is Chapter 21, and at the time I'm typing up this A/N, there are 34 favorites, 35 followers, and 73 reviews. So if you take the "1" in the ones place of "Chapter 21", the "2" in the tens place of "Chapter 21", the "3" in the ones place of "73 reviews", the "4" in "34 favorites", the "5" in "35 followers", add the "3"s in the tens places of "34 favorites" and "35 followers" to make "6", and take the "7" in the tens place of "73 reviews", you get "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7". ^J^**

 **So, this chapter fulfills the requests of InsideMyBrain and GuardianGirl24. It also *spoiler* briefly shows Monaco and Macau tag-teaming it—you can thank Guest reviewer Phyllis for suggesting for them to interact! Notes are at the bottom. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Clothes Shopping: Requested by InsideMyBrain and GuardianGirl24**

* * *

"Tim Hortons," Canada stated as he and his brother walked through the supermarket.

"Starbucks," America countered.

" _Tim Hortons_ ," he repeated.

"Yeah, but consider this, bro— _Starbucks_ ," said America, emphasizing the syllables. "It's so awesome, it's the largest coffeehouse chain in the world!"

"But that doesn't mean it's the best," Canada replied. "A lot of people prefer Tim Hortons over Starbucks, you know. Tim Hortons is so awesome, it takes more than a mere two syllables to _begin_ to describe its awesomeness! See? Tim Hor-tons."

"Oh yeah? Try this—Star-bu- _cks_."

"That's not how you pronounce syllables!" Canada protested. "Besides, can _you_ order a double-double at your place?"

". . . Dude, are you talking about burgers?" America wondered, thinking about the menu at _In-N-Out Burger_.

"The subject is _coffee_!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Besides, Tim Hortons has been around longer than Starbucks, you know."

"So, are you saying you're outdated?" America asked. While his brother gasped in indignation, he added, "Plus, aren't you the world's largest per-capita market for Starbucks, bro? Not that I'm far behind or anything, of course!"

There was a pause as Canada considered this.

Finally, it was Kumajiro who broke the silence. "Who're you?"

"I'm Canada, and even if I have a lot of Starbucks at my place, I still have way more Tim Hortons there, anyway—and it tastes a lot better than your stuff, too!"

". . . Wait, didn't Burger King and Tim Hortons have a merger in 2014 or something?" America pointed out. When Canada didn't respond immediately, he took it as a confirmation and grinned, "See? I come out on top after all!"

" _I top you geographically_!" said Canada; America laughed as his brother crossed his arms defensively. "And you're just going by the numbers, not by opinions, so it doesn't really count, anyway."

"Quantitative data, dude!" his brother flashed him a thumbs-up. Canada facepalmed.

". . . Let's just go get my bunny hug," he sighed. America stopped in his tracks.

"Sorry, say that again, bro?" America asked, dabbing at his eyes. "For a second there, I could've sworn you just said 'bunny hug'. Anyway, would you like a sweater, dude? This one has a sunflower on it, if you're interested."

"No, I want a new bunny hug," Canada repeated stoically, "and if it has to have a pattern on it, I'd pick a maple leaf."

"Uh, dude, I don't think people would appreciate you putting swear words on your clothes," said America.

"What do you mean, 'swear words'?" Canada asked.

Before America could reply, a familiar voice greeted, "Hello, friend!"

Canada turned around very slowly to see Russia looming behind him. He sweatdropped. "M-maple leaf . . . oh, I see what you're saying now."

"I heard you were talking about sunflowers. You're looking for clothes, da?" the tall nation smiled. "So I thought I would help. Maybe you would like to try my Magic Metal Pipe of Pain, America?"

"How thoughtful of you, Russia!" America grinned, but Canada couldn't help feeling that something was off. "I'll be sure to hook it up to the sewage system, thanks!"

"Oh, well I suppose I'll be keeping it if you won't wear it, comrade," Russia assured him, tucking his pipe away safely. "After all, we wouldn't want you _spilling any oil_ over it, da?"

"No worries," America laughed—okay, now it was _really_ getting creepy . . . "It's a good thing _I_ discovered how to clean those spills with hair, isn't it?"

"Da, now that you mention it, comrade, you _could_ use a trim . . ."

Sweatdropping at the matching dark auras that had appeared around Russia and his brother, Canada interrupted, "Um, weren't we shopping for a bunny hug?"

"Why hug a rabbit when you can hug a Baltic?" asked Russia, gesturing at the Nervous Trembling Trio standing off to the side. His dark aura reappearing, he added, "And be sure to squeeze as tightly as you can, da? That way, they're more fun to stretch later on."

". . . No thanks," said Canada, eyeing the other nation warily. "And no, I want to buy a _bunny hug_."

"Oh, I get you, bro!" America nodded eagerly. Grabbing a notepad from wherever—well, at least it wasn't a map this time—he clicked a pen and asked, "Okay, it's not a martini, but hey, it's your choice, man. So, exactly _how_ wasted are—"

"I'm not talking about the cocktail!" Canada exclaimed.

Russia contemplated asking America about whether or not he knew any cocktails that involved vodka, but decided against it—he preferred vodka straight from the bottle, anyway. Humming lightly to himself, he glanced to the side only to catch sight of a vaguely familiar boot disappearing into the next aisle. Hmm, now who could that be?

Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Mr. Russia?" Latvia said tentatively. "Your dinner is ready. Would you like to have it now?"

He thought for a moment. Well, he was rather hungry . . . "Da."

"You must be craving some ragtime then, huh?" said America, stowing away his pen and notepad, not noticing Russia leaving with the Baltics. "I could've sworn you'd be more of a 'grizzly bear' kind of guy, but then again, I didn't think you were into dancing to ragtime, anyway—"

"It's not a dance, either!" Canada said, rather distressed. "You know what? I'll just finish the shopping on my own, eh?"

"Aw, but—"

" _On my own_ ," Canada stood firm, cutting off his brother's protests. "Now come on, Kumapickle."

America sighed as his brother strode off into the clothing section. Then someone snatched his arm and, without warning, the nation was yanked into a nearby aisle. "What the . . . ?"

He found himself facing Monaco and Macau in the middle of a canned food aisle and immediately facepalmed. Smiling, Macau said, "Hello, America. I believe it is about time for us to collect our winnings from the bet we made with you earlier . . ."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **GuardianGirl24 requested an argument between Canada and America about Tim Hortons versus Starbucks. The argument might've been longer if I could find more qualitative/categorical data relating to Tim Hortons. I did find this pie chart relating to opinions on Starbucks, though—the majority was positive, but 11% of the pie chart was labeled "Evil Corp." Sigh. So, I'm pretty sure that Tim Hortons might win against Starbucks when it comes to quality versus quantity.**

 **America: "What? Against Starbucks? No way! Come on, dudes, let's start mass-pro—"**

 **Britain: "We don't need another Depression, you git!"**

 **America: "Don't worry, I'll drink it all!"**

 **Britain: ". . . That's _exactly_ why I should bloody worry!"**

 **InsideMyBrain requested a) bunny hugs and b) Russia and Magic Metal Pipe of Pain! (That sounds like it could be the title of a movie!)**

 **"Bunny Hug": Canadian slang for "hoodie". It sounds so fuzzy! On a semi-related note, child America is sometimes shown with a bunny, which is said to be a pun on "usagi", which means "rabbit" in Japanese. Also, relating to young America, I read on Wiki somewhere that Episode 11 of Hetalia: The World Twinkle (Season 6) will adapt the story "Davie" from the original webcomic, which is a . . . pretty sad story. It's kind of like the ones in Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5) in which France interacts with humans. I haven't actually seen Season 6 yet, but I'll probably get it once the whole season's out. Hopefully, it'll be on iTunes . . .**

 **. . . And that just got way off-track. But yes, "Davie" is pretty sad . . .**

 **"Bunny Hug": It's also a cocktail and a style of dancing that originated in the US.**

 **"In-N-Out Burger": Described as "a regional chain of fast food restaurants with locations primarily in the American Southwest" by Wikipedia.**

 **America: "You mean it's not international?"**

 **France: "It's a fast food restaurant chain called 'In-N-Out _Burger_ ', Amerique . . ."**

 **"Maple": Something that Canada often says in place of swear words in Hetalia.**

 **And now to expand upon several other things mentioned in this chapter: Russia and America? Well . . . let's just say that their interactions in this chapter are sort of based off of their conversation in the Hetalia webcomic strip "Happy Birthday!" Seriously. Also, as for the "oil spill" thing, I read somewhere that the idea to combat oil spills with human hair was proposed by some Americans, and it worked.**

 **America: "Because I'm the Hero!"**

 **Whatever you say! Oh, right, and there's another term I'll address . . .**

 **"Double-Double": At Tim Hortons, it's a coffee order. At In-N-Out Burger, it's a burger. Yep.**

 **If all goes as planned, the requests of Guest reviewers Daisy Cammelle and RainbowRose17 will likely be fulfilled in the next chapter, and the requests of nightwing5723 and Guest reviewer Elsa will probably be fulfilled in the chapter after that. Poland?**

 **Poland: "Stay, like, totally fabulous! Now where are those heels I found earlier . . . ?"**


	22. America's a Trillionaire?

**A/N: *spoiler* I'm not too familiar with Ukraine, so she might be a bit OOC. Other than that . . . I kind of don't really have any excuses. *sweatdrop***

 **I'm so glad you're happy with the previous chapter! As usual, your reviews make my day. ^J^**

 **Oh yeah, and this chapter fulfills the requests of Guest reviewers Daisy Cammelle and RainbowRose17. Also, Guest reviewer Darkkami's request will probably be fulfilled sometime within the next three chapters or so. (Plans are still vague, but formulating! *evil scheming look*) I hope you enjoy! Notes are at the bottom.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's a Trillionaire?: Requested by Guest reviewer Daisy Cammelle and Guest reviewer RainbowRose17**

* * *

" _DUDES_!" America exclaimed as he threw the doors open and marched into the World Meeting. "We have an awful problem and we have to fix it quick! You've got to be my backup, bros! Okay, so I'm thinking—"

"You haven't even told us the bloody issue, you git!" Britain interrupted with a frown. "And we certainly haven't agreed to it, either."

Obliging, America asked, "Okay, so you know how I'm a trillionaire?"

"I don't think you've brought that up before, comrade," Russia remarked.

"You're over a trillion dollars in debt," said China, who had actually just been ranting about America's debt to Panda, though of course, Panda had zoned out long ago. "And that's just how much you owe me alone, aru."

"Exactly!" America nodded, not paying attention to China's wry tone. "But now I'm another trillion dollars in debt because of Monaco and Macau, which totally _sucks_!"

"Wait," China straightened. "How much was that again?"

"Uh, I think it's over one and a half trillion bucks, bro," America replied, shrugging. "Anyway, as I was—"

" _WHAT_?" China yelped, leaping from his chair. "No one's supposed to be owed more money from you than I am, aru!"

"I'm touched by the sentiment, dude, but as I was sayi—"

"We have to do something about this!" China paced, still panicking. "Maybe you could sell them McDon—"

"If you dare finish that sentence, mon ami, your Gastronaut powers will immediately be revoked," France warned him. Wisely, China sat back down. "Now, does anyone have a plan?"

"Of course, bro!" America grinned. "So—"

Popping up again, China declared, "Extract all the butter and grease from your foods and—"

"Mein Gott, your ideas are starting to sound like _his_!" Germany exclaimed, startling everyone else as he abruptly slapped his hands on the table. Gesturing at America, he snapped, "And he _does_ have a plan, however idiotic it may be, so if you would just let him _complete his sentences_ , you might be able to hear it!"

"Thanks, Germany," said America, flashing a big thumbs-up. "Anyway, I was thinking that we should gather a bunch of scientist-dudes to give me superpowers so that I could go fight crime around the world, because I'm the Hero! And Monaco and Macau will be so grateful that they'll immediately declare my debt repaid. But don't worry, you all will be in on the action too—as my sidekicks, also known as my _backup_!"

"Yeah, stupid as expected," Romano frowned as the other nations facepalmed. "Nice try, burger bastard."

"Glad you like the idea, then!" America smiled, oblivious to the sarcasm. "So, who's with me?"

Greece glanced up briefly from his nap. "I think . . . we'll pass."

Then he immediately dozed off again. The other nations sweatdropped.

"Great, now can we get on with the meeting, you bastards?" Romano asked, breaking the silence.

Right on cue, the doors flew open once more and Ukraine marched in, looking very determined and—Wait, was she wearing her _military outfit_?

"Actually, I have a plan as well," she beamed.

"The one time I actually looked forward to a damn meeting," Romano muttered sulkily.

"Would you like a—"

"I don't want another cheer-up charm, you bastard!"

"Just hurry up and tell us the plan," Germany sighed, "though I still don't understand why we're taking so much time to discuss America's debt to Monaco and Macau . . ."

"Because if we're going to discuss any of America's debts, it better be the amount he owes me, aru!" said China, receiving several glares in response. ". . . Fine, what's the plan?"

"We go and reclaim what we have lost," Ukraine announced. When she was met with blank looks, she sighed and elaborated, "You know, we break into their hoard and steal back their winnings."

"That idea . . . is _AWESOME_!" Prussia whooped.

"It's _stealing_ ," Germany pointed out. "And how come _Ukraine's_ the one suggesting it?"

"They took Kiev," she replied, her smile darkening and . . . hold up. _Ukraine_ has a dark aura?

"Well, that explains how they're related, aru," China shuddered, glancing over at Russia. Then he paused. "Wait, you were betting _land_?"

"No," Ukraine shook her head. "They said they wanted somewhere larger to store their earnings, so I offered to let them keep them at my place. But then they actually _took_ the city!"

"But Monaco and Macau are countries, bro," America frowned. "Why would they want to move their stuff into a city?"

There was a collective facepalm.

"Kiev is larger than Monaco and Macau combined, you git!" Britain snapped. "Learn some bloody geography . . ."

"Whoa, I didn't know Kiev was a continent!" America exclaimed excitedly. "Wait, but I thought there were only seven. Let's see . . . there's America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Antarctica, the North Pole . . . yeah, Kiev's totally the seventh, dudes!"

And they had thought there was no way he could screw geography any further.

"That was wrong on so many levels, Amerique," France sighed.

"Never mind that, we have to act quickly!" Ukraine declared, pulling out a grappling hook and shooting it through the ceiling. "This way!"

Britain scoffed. "What kind of idiot would resort to—"

" _THE AWESOME TRIO STRIKES AGAIN_ . . . again!" shouted said trio before shooting their own grappling hooks upward and escaping the meeting yet again. Again.

"Well, that seems accurate, da?" Russia asked rhetorically.

* * *

Due to their combined awesomeness and badassery, it didn't take long for the Awesome Trio plus Ukraine to make it to Monaco and Macau's money mountai— _AHEM_ , it didn't take them long to make it to Monaco and Macau's _hoard_ —in a process that was so awesome and badass that it's been omitted out of respect. But there was one issue that they hadn't anticipated.

"It's empty," Ukraine stated disappointedly, sheathing her sword when she determined that the room was, indeed, not a trap.

"They must've predicted that we'd go after it and relocated," said Denmark, polishing his battleax—again, it was a short but totally awesome and undeniably badass journey.

"Lame-o," Prussia snorted. Gilbird landed in his hair with a chirp for emphasis.

America stared off into the distance contemplatively. "Hmm . . . I wonder what they're doing right now . . ."

* * *

"What they're doing right now": having a fierce debate with the Netherlands. As in, the Netherlands was clearly going to win.

"I will not settle for less," he frowned at the two nations.

Monaco readjusted her glasses. "Well, we could—"

"You can either take my offer or refuse it," the Netherlands interrupted.

". . . We accept," Macau sighed, handing over the bag. "Over half our winnings . . . including Kiev."

"Macau!" Monaco folded her arms, obviously unhappy with this trade.

Macau shrugged. "Well, he was clearly going to have his way. After all, we can't let him tell the other nations where we keep our winnings, now can we?"

And of course, being Monaco, she couldn't exactly argue with that. Still frowning, she asked, "How _did_ you find us here, anyway?"

The Netherlands shrugged. "Money makes the world go round."

Monaco and Macau immediately facepalmed, realizing where they were standing.

They had a hulking _money_ mountain in their possession. _Of course_ it was only a matter of time before the Netherlands found it!

"Back to the drawing board, then?" Macau asked.

". . . Oui."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **The Netherlands and his marvelous money mastery, am I right? ^J^ That money mountain couldn't hide from him for long! Also, random comment, but for some reason, I feel like in this fic, at least, Denmark keeps winding up being the reasonable one in the Awesome Trio . . . actually, that kind of makes sense. Kind of.**

 **Denmark: "Must be my awesome battleax ski— _ACK_!"**

 **Me: *glares at Norway* "And _of course_ he gets cut off in this chapter."**

 **Norway: *strangling Denmark by his tie* "He was asking for it."**

 **Guest reviewer Daisy Cammelle requested a) badass Ukraine and b) the nations stealing Monaco's winnings. Although they were requested separately, I kind of sort of couldn't resist, so . . . ^J^ I hope the Ukraine was acceptable, at least.**

 **Russia: "Hey sister, why didn't you give them the same suggestion you gave me when I was in trouble?"**

 **Ukraine: "Hmm? Are you talking about giving me Kiev in exchange for the scarf?"**

 **Russia: "No, the one about showing them . . . uh . . ."**

 **Ukraine: "Oh, I know what you're talking about! Yes, I already tried that one with Monaco and Macau. It didn't work."**

 **Russia: ". . . Should I be worried?"**

 **Me: "Yes! I mean, with Ukraine, statistically, it's supposed to be brought up nine times out of ten and this time it was only, like, one time out of—"**

 **Russia: *sweatdrop* "Never mind."**

 **Guest reviewer RainbowRose17 requested more Britain, so here's some more of that naughty, naughty wizard boy! Sorry he didn't get too many appearances in this chapter, but he'll likely also be present in the next one, so look out for that!**

 **As for what exactly the next chapter will be about . . . well, I haven't entirely figured it out yet, but it'll probably satisfy some requests. Probably. ^J^**

 **"Kiev": The capital of Ukraine. It is 323.9 square miles, or 207,300 acres. Monaco is 0.78 square miles, or 499 acres. Macau is 11.39 square miles, or 7,290 acres. This means that in size, Kiev is about 28 times larger than Macau and over 400 times larger than Monaco. Large tracts of land indeed!**

 **Also, can we take a moment to appreciate that America used the word "sentiment"?**

 **America: *nudges Britain* "See?"**

 **Britain: "That doesn't prove anything, you twat!"**

 **. . . He's still in denial. *Britain protests in background* On a side note, I'm still trying to come up with something to suggest watching to justify being bestowed the glory of the Gevalia fika commercial (which was introduced to me by the reviewer missycanucks; again, BEST. MINUTE-LONG ADVERTISEMENT. _EVER_!), yet all I can think of is BuzzFeed . . . BuzzFeedVideo has this video titled "The Weirdest Literal Lyrics Of All Time", in which they pretty much parody a series of segments of different songs in a span of about four minutes, but I'll suggest watching it anyway for three main reasons:**

 **a) In this chapter, Germany makes people _COMPLEEETE_ their sentences! *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* _no-that-was-not-just-an-innuendo_ —Hey-I-see-you-giving-me-that-look! I'm-trying-to-be-serious-here!***

 **b) Multiple parts remind me of Russia.**

 **Russia: *pops back in* "You called?"**

 **Japan: "Moving along."**

 **c) BUZZFEED. Yep. But if you have younger siblings or other people who probably shouldn't be hearing one or two swear words, you might want to watch it with headphones or something. Prussia?**

 **Prussia: "Stay awes— _ACK_! You didn't tell me that the crazy-face was going to be here! Also, what's with Denmark?"**

 **Russia: " _KOLKOLKOLKOL_ . . ."**


	23. America's Riding Skills

**A/N: I'm so glad (and relieved!) that you guys liked the previous chapter! Now, to address a few things. For one—and this one is more of a remark—but "riding" is almost synonymous to "writing" when you say it with an American accent. At least, as far as I've seen. Er, heard. For anot—**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* "I'm assuming you don't know where Japan is right now?"**

 **Me: "Well, there's no sign of him in this room. Zero. Zilch. Nad—"**

 **Hungary: "Yes, yes. But we have more _requests_!"**

 **Me: "I was about to get to that actually. Anyway, from who?"**

 **Hungary: "Guest reviewer Mavis, reviewer NoNumbersInMyUsername, and Guest reviewer Alexandra."**

 **Me: "Awesome! Okay, so . . . the requests of Guest reviewer Mavis and Guest reviewer Alexandra will probably be fulfilled in my other fic, _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ , and as for the request of reviewer NoNumbersInMyUsername, that one will probably be fulfilled sometime in the next three chapters. Oh! And another thing about Guest reviewer Alexandra's request—it actually ties into a chapter I'm also posting later today, which is "Britain's Seafaring Woes: OMAKE" (Chapter 6 of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ ), so that one's being fulfilled quicker than usual!" ^J^**

 **Hungary: "That . . . was an awful lot of dialogue."**

 **Me: "Yeah, well—"**

 **Hungary: *bursts out* "Sorry, yaoi calling! Bye for now!"**

 ***sweatdrop* . . . Okay then! Anyway, this chapter has some references to "America's Elections" (Chapter 1) as well as to "Britain's Seafaring Woes" (Chapter 5 of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ ) and to the TV series _How I Met Your Mother_. ^J^ And there's more Britain, too—I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Riding Skills: Requested by reviewer nightwing5723 and Guest reviewer Elsa**

* * *

"Western," America frowned.

" _English_ ," Britain frowned right back with an added glare for effect.

"Hmm, yeah, but consider this, dude— _Western_ ," America repeated stoically. "The horses seem way more relaxed in Western riding, bro. In English riding, they're all stiff and stuck-up looking."

Britain huffed. "Well, that's because Western riding is too _lax_. You always look like you're slacking off. _English_ riding is a lot more sophisticated, so of course it's a meticulous matter!"

"Then Western riders must be good if they can make it look so effortless," America grinned, breaking his earlier serious expression. Britain facepalmed.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you twat!" he snapped. "English riding is a lot more elegant than Western riding, anyhow. After all, I don't hear _Western riding_ being called 'classic riding' anywhere!"

"Dude, you're just supporting English riding because it's named after you," said America.

"And we all know that you're bloody _jealous_ of that!" Britain snapped as they approached the doors to the World Meeting.

"Oh yeah? Well—"

America abruptly cut himself off as they saw what lay inside the meeting room—the meeting table had vanished, and instead, the nations' chairs had been organized into several neatly-assembled rows, though the nations already in the room were all standing upright. However, what caught their eyes first was—

"' _INTERVENTION_ '?" Britain read off of the huge banner that had been stretched across the room with a disapproving look. " _What the bloody hell is this_?"

"Don't worry, it's not for you," Belgium assured him as Monaco and Macau, eager to rebuild their money mounta— _AHEM_. It's a _HOARD_ , got it? Good. But anyway, they were eager to rebuild it after a certain fiasco involving five really badass cosplays and a downsized 17th-18th century ship, so they'd placed several more bets and were currently collecting the profits of one they had cast on Britain's first words upon walking into the room. "You can continue your conversation for now."

Britain was about to object, but America spoke before he did. "You got it, bro! So as I was saying, Western saddles? A lot better than English ones, dude! I mean, Western saddles can spread your weight so that you'll feel more secure. And comfortable, unlike whatever you'd call those pompous excuses for saddles."

"Western saddles are _bulky_ , you git!" Britain retorted, completely ignoring the fact that America had just used the word "pompous". "English saddles are considerably lighter."

"Besides, beauty is pain, non?" added France, twirling into their conversation in a flurry of roses and head-sparkles.

" _Thank you_!" Britain exclaimed. Then he paused. "Wait, did you just _agree_ with me, you frog? And did I just _thank_ you?"

Realizing his error, France turned to America, "You better win this argument, non? _Avenge me, mon ami_!" before spinning away once more. Britain sweatdropped.

"Sure thing, dude!" America called after him. "Anyway, English saddles might be lighter, but I sure don't see any saddle horns on them, bro!"

" _Those_ monstrosities?" Britain gagged, recalling the attachment found on many Western saddles. Gesturing animatedly, he continued, "What purpose does it have nowadays, other than just being something to grab or squeeze or touch when you're bored? I bet you don't even know how to properly use one anymore, you twat—it probably hasn't seen action in _centuries_!"

"How much are you willing to place?" Monaco and Macau grinned deviously.

Meanwhile, Switzerland, who had been in the process of walking in with his sister and had heard Britain's rant and interpreted it in what was possibly the dirtiest way possible—funny how his mind was in the gutter even though he's supposed to be "neutral", hmm?—fumed, "How fun", grabbed Liechtenstein by the wrist, and—

—was immediately tackled down by the combined forces of Japan, Hungary, Germany, and Italy, who didn't want to be left out of the dogpile, with cries of "It's Switzerland-san!" "You're right! Do you think he might finally let Liechtenstein watch some yaoi?" "Mein Gott, just get him!" and "Ve, what're we doing? This looks like fun!"

But since the nations had exerted their resources on Switzerland, this left Romano free to stride in, venting about something to Spain. However, he stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the banner.

"' _INTERVENTION_ '?" he read with a frown before immediately wheeling on the other nations. Several nations groaned as they handed over more of their money to Monaco and Macau. "What kind of crapola is this, eh? You better have a damn good reason for this, you bastards!"

Spain turned to Prussia, who simply stated, "Sic 'em."

" _ROMANO_!" Spain exclaimed, glomping the aforementioned individual. Romano tried to kick him. Hungary and Japan leapt up from the dogpile to take pictures, leaving only Germany and Italy to keep Switzerland from springing back up. But since Italy still didn't know what the dogpile had been for in the first place, it was really just Germany. Next to them, Liechtenstein was thoughtfully watching the scene unfold.

" _What the hell's going on_?" he asked, attempting to stomp on Spain's feet when kicking him failed. Somehow, he managed to land a solid hit to Spain's shin, after which Spain finally leapt back, to Romano's triumph. But Romano realized that that triumph was premature when he saw what was clamped around his wrists. "Wait. Are these _HANDCUFFS_?"

"Si," Spain smiled as Germany dragged an also-handcuffed Switzerland into the meeting room.

Romano stared at Spain expectantly. "Well? Are you going to tell us damn why, you bastard?"

"Nope," he replied cheerily. "You'll find out soon enough."

Which apparently was the equivalent of "two seconds later", because Denmark gladly announced, "We want to put you in anger management classes!"

Norway immediately yanked him down by his tie. "Way to be subtle."

" _ACK_! Thanks!" Denmark choked out as the other nations sweatdropped.

"Anger management classes?" America repeated, unhappy to have been left out of the planning stages of the intervention. "Dude, why didn't I hear about this?"

"You were kind of arguing with Britain for the past twenty-four hours, eh?" said Canada pointedly, not that any of the other nations took notice.

"I don't need any anger management classes," Switzerland said, standing from the chair he'd been pushed into. "How fun. Now let me go."

"Ah, Switzie," France sighed. "Always the hedgehog, non?"

"No," Switzerland deadpanned. "Are we done yet?"

"So, you really think you don't need anger management classes?" Denmark asked with raised eyebrows, rubbing at his neck—Norway had released him some time ago.

"That's kind of exactly what he said, you bastard," Romano stated flatly.

"You leave whenever something remotely suggestive is brought up," Japan pointed out.

"And with good reason," Switzerland and Romano replied in unison, though Romano also fit in a "damn" before the "good" and tacked on a "you bastard" at the end.

"You wouldn't be able to handle yaoi," Hungary sighed. "Such a shame . . ."

"We don't _want_ to handle yaoi, you pervert!" Romano snapped.

". . . Liechtenstein can, though," Hungary added.

"Don't go corrupting my little sister!" Switzerland protested.

"It's interesting, though," Liechtenstein shrugged. Switzerland gaped. "Don't worry, Big Bruder. I'm doing just fine."

"If you've been hanging out with Hungary, then you obviously haven't!" replied Switzerland, trying to remove his handcuffs. When he saw the pointed looks he was receiving, he shot then all a glare. "What? This doesn't prove anything!"

"You have an ' _I'd-shoot-you-but-that-would-only-traumatize-my-little-sister-even-further_ ' glare," said Austria.

" _YOU'RE IN ON IT TOO_?" Switzerland and Romano gawked.

"I don't get why it's such a big deal," Austria said dismissively. "Why did I even agree to be here . . . ?"

"You know what, you bastard? You're right," Romano nodded, getting to his feet and rubbing his—Wait. Where did his handcuffs go? "We don't have to be here. Come on, Switzerland. Let's go."

And so, before anyone could stop them, Romano, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein fled the scene. Behind them, Italy called happily, "Ciao, Fratello! I hope you have fun now that you don't have to wear those itchy handcuffs!"

There was a collective facepalm.

" _You_ undid them?" Germany sweatdropped.

"Ve, Romano thought they were uncomfortable, so I decided to help him out!" Italy grinned, oblivious to the other nations' frustrations. "Now who wants pasta?"

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Seriously, though—"And comfortable, unlike whatever you'd call those pompous excuses for saddles." Sounds like a sentence that could come out of Britain's mouth! Maybe later they'll have to host another intervention, if you know what I mean . . . *wink*wink*nudge*nudge***

 **Switzerland: "That's it, I'm—"**

 **Me: " _IT WASN'T AN INNUENDO, OKAY_?"**

 **Switzerland: *sweatdrop* "What? How fun, I was just going to fix the meeting room after they moved all the furniture for the intervention!"**

 **Me: "Wait, it's already started?"**

 **Switzerland: *facepalm* "The one that just ended!"**

 **Oh. Anyway, reviewer nightwing5723 requested Western style horseback riding. I'm not really an expert on equestrian matters, but I hope that you found this satisfactory at the least! ^J^ Though on a lot of horseback mountain riding trails I've seen in the Appalachians, I think Western saddles were more commonly used than English ones, perhaps because of the sense of security they can provide for inexperienced riders. However, for formal horseback riding, English saddles are probably a lot more common than Western ones . . . probably. I really don't know. ^J^**

 **Guest reviewer Elsa requested for Switzerland and/or Romano to take anger management classes. Dun, dun, _DUN_! But of course, since they're Switzerland and Romano, they don't go down without a fight. In Switzerland's case, it's partially because he was tackled by four different nations, and it probably really hurt at the bottom of that dogpile . . . *shudder*. But don't worry, he'll be fine! Well, maybe.**

 **Anyway, time for some sort-of-definitions!**

 **"Saddle Horn": A part of a Western saddle that can be used to tie rope around; it was apparently pretty handy for cowboys and such. ^J^**

 **"Gastronaut": Though they weren't really mentioned in this chapter, the Gastronaut Club, AKA "The Triumvirate of Refined Palates" (or something way off), consists of France (who is said to overpay for cheese), Turkey (who is said to post pics of his food), and China (who is said to put rare animals on his menu; hopefully, he doesn't actually have any to offer) and is mentioned in Episode 2 and Episode 3 of Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5). The members of this club are also called "Gastronauts"; the internet definition of a "gastronaut" is someone with a high appreciation for food, from what I gathered.**

 **Prussia: "Pft. What other foods do you need when you already have wurst, syrup, and awesome beer-loving German blood?"**

 **France: "Hmm, how about _WINE_?"**

 **Prussia: "Wine? Lame-o!"**

 **France: *rolls up sleeves* "Ohonhonhon, are you trying to pick a fight with m—"**

 **Me: "Just let him get on with the outro!"**

 **France: "You want him to 'get on' with it, you said?"**

 **Me: ". . . _GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER_."**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, stay awesome!"**


	24. America's Pizzas

**A/N: _WE'RE IN THE NINETIES_ , WOOT! We've just gone into the nineties with reviews, the forties with follows, and the late thirties with favorites! ^J^ You guys are aweso—**

 **Prussia: *bursts through floor with grappling hook* "MY AWESOME SENSES ARE TINGLING."**

 **Me: *sweatdrop* "I thought you stopped doing that! And at least use the _wall_!"**

 **Prussia: "I'm too awesome to stop doing tha—Er, it. Kesesese!"**

 **Maybe I should start issuing warnings at the beginnings of these chapters . . . for this one? _LOOK OUT FOR MICHIGAN._ Oh, and _OOC AHEAD_. (Translation? Beware for the out-of-character character/characters . . . _POOF_!)**

 **Notes are at the bottom. ^J^**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Pizzas: Requested by Guest reviewer Darkkami**

* * *

It was in the midst of a World Meeting that Italy said the magic words.

"Ve, I'm hungry . . ."

Well, they weren't literally magical—Britain, Norway, and Romania could confirm that—but the effect was still instantaneous, as this "spell" somehow managed to summon . . .

"Dudes, was that the _call of hunger_ I heard?" America grinned, breaking back into the World Meeting via the wall after having dismissed himself less than fifteen minutes ago due to sheer boredom. The other nations sweatdropped. "Well, that's what the Hero's for, bros!"

"He said he was 'hungry', you git!" Britain snapped, though America only waved him off dismissively as he pulled something out of his pocket. Finally, a reasonable place in this fic where they get stuff from!

"Sure, whatevs, dude," he shrugged as he tapped his newfound pen against a—Wait, so he got the pen from his pocket somehow, but where did the _notepad_ come from? That thing definitely wasn't there before! You know what, scratch that. It's still a mystery where they find those things. "Anyway, bro, I don't have any pasta, but you'll be fine with pizza, right?"

" _YOU BASTARD_!" Romano exclaimed, slapping his hands onto the meeting table in a way that somehow bore a resemblance to Germany before Italy could reply. "No _pasta_? What kind of crapola is this, eh? That's it. We're doomed. It's through. Spain, help me out here, dammit!"

"On the bright side, pizza has a lot of tomato sauce in it, doesn't it, Romano?" Spain pointed out cheerily. "So it can't be that bad, right?"

Romano sighed, reluctantly relenting. ". . . Why do you always have to be on the damn bright side, you bastard?"

"That's the spirit!" Spain smiled, oblivious to Romano's annoyance. Turning back to America, he inquired, "What do you have to offer, mi amigo?"

America thought for a moment. "Well, it's not much—"

"Good, then it'll lessen the chances of indigestion," said Britain, recalling the sizes of America's usual portions. He shuddered slightly.

"—but I can get you bar-style, New York-style, California-style, St. Louis-style, New Haven-style, Ohio Valley-style," here, America lifted his right hand briefly to point toward its lower right corner, "Detroit-style, Old Forge-style, Sicilian-style—"

"How do you have Sicilian-style pizza, you bastard?" Romano exclaimed, not noticing—or perhaps just disregarding—the collective sweatdrop that had appeared over the other nations after America had rattled off more than five pizzas. "You don't even know where _Europe_ is on a damn map!"

Meanwhile, America, who hadn't been paying attention to Romano's remark, had gone through six more pizzas while Romano had been talking, and continued, "—Sfincione, schiacciata, montanara—oh, and don't get me started about New England Greek-style—"

"New England _Greek_?" Britain repeated, staring at the cat-stroking nation. Greece simply shrugged in a _just-let-him-finish-his-list-oh-and-would-you-like-to-pet-a-cat-too?_ kind of way. He groaned. "Do you have a bloody pizza for _every_ region? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised . . . after all, you can't even agree on what measurement system to use, you git."

Somehow, _this_ comment managed to catch America's attention, and he whirled around, forgetting about his list. "Say that again, dude?"

"That you can't even agree on what measurement system to use?" Italy piped up. Romano smacked him upside the head for that. "Owie . . . oh, _right_. America had a failed space mission because of that, didn't he?"

This comment warranted a collective facepalm from the other nations.

"We're not supposed to mention it, you bastard!" Romano muttered into his hand.

Italy sweatdropped. "Oh . . . oops."

"Failed space mission?" Britain repeated blankly. "What's this about, you twat?"

"Ve, America launched a robotic space probe to Mars in 1998, and lost contact with it in 1999," Italy explained. "It failed because the scientists in Colorado and California used different measurement systems when they were working on a key part of the spacecraft operation, so after it passed behind Mars on September 23, it went out of radio contact and was never heard from again."

Silence reigned as America folded his arms and stood stock still—and of course, Romano was the one to break it.

"What the crapola do you think 'We're not supposed to mention it, you bastard' _means_ , eh, you bastard?" Romano asked, shaking his brother by the shoulders. Then he paused. "Wait, how do you know all that stuff, anyway?"

"Oh, uh, France kind of gave me a tour of the internet," Italy admitted sheepishly, recalling all the eroti— _AHEM_ , he recalled all the _totally-normal-displays-of-l'amour-that-were-in-no-way-perverted-at-all_ that France had showed him on his "grand tour". "In return, he had me help him find many videos of por—"

At this, Romano immediately tackled France for corrupting his brother with a battle cry of " _YOU WINE BASTARDO_!"

"—rcupines," Italy finished.

Just as abruptly as he'd started to pummel the other nation, Romano suddenly stopped and stood up, dusting himself off with a disapproving look. "Who watches damn videos about _porcupines_?"

"Who _tackles_ people for being interested in wildlife, mon ami?" France pouted, glancing at his own suit with a frown. "And you totally ruined my outfit! You're going to have to pay me back!"

"One: I'm not your damn friend. Two: shut up and suck it up unless you want to get another beat-down, you bastard," Romano snapped. France wisely—but sulkily—obliged. "Anyway, what were we talking about again?"

"The Mars Climate Orbiter," America prompted, looking happier than he was expected to. "It cost one hundred ninety-three point one million dollars, dude. Guess that's what happens when you try getting through to the cold heart of space, man!"

Romano facepalmed. "Dammit."

"You lost almost two _million_ dollars, you twat?" Britain gawked.

America grinned. "Failing to convert between English and metric units will do that to you, bro."

Britain paused. "And why do you look so bloody _HAPPY_ about it?"

"Everyone sometimes fails, dude," America shrugged, sounding remarkably out of character, "and it's not the error that's the problem, but failing to detect the problem that's the problem. You getting me here, bro?"

"So you're saying that you failed twice, da?" Russia asked, ignoring as the Nervous Trembling Trio quivered in the background at his expanding dark aura.

Pretending not to notice Russia's comment—or perhaps he truly didn't notice; he _did_ have the level of obliviousness that could allow that to happen—America added, "There's another reason, too, dudes."

When a good minute passed and America didn't continue, China exclaimed, "Quit stalling and tell us already, aru!"

America _beamed_ , flashing them all a big thumbs-up.

" _Because that just proves that US customary units are the best, bros_!"

There was a collective facepalm.

But what America failed to mention was the third reason that he was totally cool with the probe's "failure"—which was that the spacecraft had actually been a hundred-ninety-three-point-one-million-dollar vessel made to deliver a present to Tony, and the story of the Mars Climate Orbiter was concocted for the sole purpose of being a cover-up for its launch.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Apparently, America _can_ keep some things quiet, da? ^J^**

 **Russia: *pops in* "You called?"**

 **Guest reviewer Darkkami requested a chapter about the many different pizza styles in America, but I kind of got too hungry sifting through pictures and lists of pizzas on the internet . . . so I didn't go too in-depth. *sweatdrop* But yeah, America has a lot of regional pizza styles and stuff . . . what? You'd get hungry too, thinking of all the warm, fluffy _CRUSTS_ and _CHEESE_ . . . lots and lots of _CHEESE_ , and—**

 **That was supposed to be revenge for making me crave burgers while going through the reviews, but while I failed at vengeance, I managed to make myself suddenly gain a deeper craving for fast food . . .**

 **France: *sighs* "You truly are one of Amerique's, non?"**

 **Hey! . . . Well, that _is_ totally true. ^J^ And the Mars Climate Orbiter never being heard from again? True, also. That's 193.1 million dollars down the drain. But the "present to Tony" part? It may or may not be. ^J^ And yeah, NASA's response was something like "the problem's not the error, but our inability to detect that error". But if you picture that stuff coming out of America's mouth, it might sound a bit out-of-character.**

 **Returning briefly to the topic of pizza, there's also something called "tomato pie" pizza, but _SOMEONE_ *cough*Britain*cough* interrupted before America could list it. There's also macaroni-and-cheese pizza, which I've only had once but I have made it a goal to have more. Seriously. That stuff's _delicious_!**

 **The requests of Guest reviewer PolukrGirl and reviewer InsideMyBrain will probably be fulfilled sometime within the next three chapters. ^J^**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome!"**


	25. America's a Beast!

**A/N: Sorry to keep you guys waiting, but _CHAPTER 25 IS FINALLY UP, GUYS_! WOOT! ****I would've updated earlier, but, well . . . stuff happened. *sweatdrop* Also, guess what day it is!**

 **Germany: *deadpan* "Friday."**

 **Me: "Yes, but there's something else about today, too . . ."**

 **Germany: *flips though _The Beginner's Guide to Relationships: for the Hard Hearted German_ * ". . . You're a girl, right?"**

 **Me: "Uh, sure?"**

 **Germany: "So, then it must be either a wedding anniversary, a birthday, a baby shower, a por—"**

 **Me: "STOP. RIGHT. _THERE_."**

 **Germany: *still engrossed in the book* "—rcupine festival, a bull festival, a celebration of the human body, a day of free beer, a—"**

 **Me: " _DUDE, IT'S NATIONAL CHEESEBURGER DAY_!"**

 **Germany: "Oh. Uh . . . good for you, then."**

 **But yeah, September 18th, 2015—National Cheeseburger Day! Though strangely enough, our school cafeteria didn't serve any . . . hmm . . . . Oh, and yesterday was Constitution Day—our Social Studies teacher was pretty psyched about it, shouting " _YEAH_!" and everything. It was _AWESOME_. Though in China, September 18th is apparently a day that can be spent in remembrance of an occurrence in WWII . . . which is partly why I'm posting this when it's September 19th in China Standard Time (CST)/Beijing Time.**

 **. . . I'm kind of ruining the glum mood that may or may not have been set by the previous sentence by saying this, but did you know that there's also _CHEESEBURGER_ pizza? WHOA. And in response to reviewer MehLikey, pear pizza sounds _AWESOME_. (I just ate dinner, but now I'm hungry again thinking about all this food . . . maybe I'll have to have another snack later . . . ^J^)**

 **This chapter contains references to "Britain's Seafaring Woes" (Chapter 5 of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ ) as well. Also, is that ship tease ahead? Yes? No? Maybe? *wink*wink*nudge*nudge***

 **And as you might be able to tell, this chapter fulfills the requests of reviewer NoNumbersInMyUsername, Guest reviewer PolukrGirl, and reviewer InsideMyBrain. Or at least, I hope so, since I'm not entirely sure what was running through my mind when I typed this up, but I hope it's satisfactory. ^J^ Notes are at the bottom!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's a Beast!: Requested by reviewer NoNumbersInMyUsername, Guest reviewer PolukrGirl, and reviewer InsideMyBrain**

* * *

"Why does he feel the need to throw a party for every obscure reason?" Norway sighed, gesturing at the celebration occurring within the room. He was standing by the punchbowl with Japan, seeing how they were both very normal, level-headed nations . . . _HA_. Yeah, _right_. And yes, that was totally sarcasm. Though of course, they were at least reasonable enough not to touch the punch—someone had mixed in a gallon of beer . . . and then dumped a bowl of pasta into it? "Seriously, 'National Cheeseburger Day'? Admittedly, though, this one almost makes sense, considering how much he likes that sandwich . . . food . . . substance . . . thing?"

Norway and Japan shuddered in sync, neither sure exactly whether or not to acknowledge the edibility of the meal . . . item . . . noun?

"Hai," Japan agreed, warily, eyeing the terrifyingly long—not to mention _neon_ —dessert table. "At least America-san's cheeseburgers appear to be naturally colored. Though I wonder what he would have done if we'd declined his invitation . . ."

"Oh! Do you think he might've let the awesome me sic his awesome army on you guys?" Prussia asked, popping up between them and grabbing a large glass of the punch/beer/pasta mix and took a long . . . slurp? "He's totally got, like, the largest military budget ever, so it shouldn't be so bad if he let me throw an awesome German Sparkle Party even though there's an awesome chance that the awesomeness of it would blow something up, right?"

"Uh . . . I think you might want to hold off on that for now," Japan sweatdropped, not quite wanting to explode out of awesomeness, "though I think America-san would be more likely to sulk . . . probably with a tub of ice cream."

Before Prussia and Norway could object—or agree—to Japan's statement, Monaco and Macau suddenly appeared in front of Norway with the words "Hey, do you remember that cosplay escapade you and the other Nordics went on the other day? Yeah, about that . . ."

Which was how, less than five minutes later, Norway had agreed to a series of bets with Monaco and Macau, gotten into a brief scuffle with Prussia after Prussia made a side comment involving the word "lame-o", dragged Hungary into the quarrel, knocked Prussia out with Hungary's frying pan—to said nation's disappointment—and then was called upstairs by a loud series of thumps, panting, and swear words, instructing Japan to stay where he was. So, Japan found himself standing by the punchbowl with Hungary and an unconscious Prussia as he continued to hear the aforementioned thumps, panting, and swear words, which could only lead to one thing.

France appeared between his fellow Yaoi Army members. "Am I the only one currently hearing the call of l'amour over this loud music?"

"You mean the thumps, panting, and swear words?" Japan asked before immediately checking for a nosebleed. Thankfully, he hadn't acquired one . . . yet.

"That would be the very definition of 'l'amour'," said France.

"No, we hear it too," Hungary assured him. France blinked.

"Then why haven't we answered it yet?" he asked, gesturing pointedly at the nearby stairs.

". . . Norway-san told me to stay put," said Japan.

"And when has something like that ever stopped you, mon ami?" France said pointedly.

Japan sighed. "There's no alternative for me, is there?"

"Nope!" Hungary beamed, taking this as her cue to drag the other three up the stairs—yes, that include the unconscious Prussia, who simply let out a small snort in response.

* * *

One series-of-thumps-as-Prussia's-head-somehow-managed-to-hit-every-single-step-on-the-staircase-and-still-remained-unconscious-as-Hungary-lugged-him-up later, Hungary, France, and Japan managed to locate the room that Norway had disappeared into using the skills they had acquired from Yaoi Army training. They _would_ have followed the thumps, panting, and swear words that have already been mentioned multiple times, except said series had paused a while ago, to their disappointment—well, Prussia was the exception to their disappointment, seeing how he was a) unconscious and b) that large tank of beer in his dream wasn't going to drink itself.

Japan was about to open the door and break the period of uninterrupted, slightly-muffled music blasting frown the party downstairs when someone inside the room spoke.

"Uh, Norway, dude, are you going to say something yet?" America's voice rang out. Japan froze. "I mean, it's been, like, five minutes already, bro."

". . . Oh," Norway finally replied following another pause. "Sorry. It's just, I didn't believe you at first when you tried to explain the situation . . ."

"You mean when Britain told you that America's totally an animal in bed?" Romania offered helpfully.

"Well, that's a mild way of putting it," Britain sighed.

"A _wicked rad_ animal in bed!" America corrected, sounding way too happy.

Meanwhile, outside the door, Hungary was currently mourning Austria's absence—she'd left the tissues with him and was regretting it upon noticing the massive nosebleeds that she, France, and Japan had sprung due to their yaoi-centric mindsets. She would have gone looking for some, but the look on Japan's face as he processed this information was just too good to miss.

" _N-nani_?" Japan asked, seeing Hungary staring at him. "Why're you looking at me like that, Hungary-san?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," Hungary avoided the question. "Now, what's it they're saying behind that door again . . . ?"

Right on cue, Britain exclaimed in response to America's statement, "Why do you sound so _pleased_ about the situation, you git? You. Are. A. Bloody. _BEAST_ , you twat!"

"You mean it, dude?" America asked. Britain simply sighed once more, which said nation apparently took as a confirmation. "Whoa, awesome, man!"

The effect was immediate.

" _I HEARD SOMEONE USE—nfmwrflaugh_!"

Hungary wasted no time in tackling Prussia—who had finally decided to wake up in response to the call of awesomeness—to the floor, giving him a wonderful awakening by promptly covering his mouth and giving him a hard glare. France, who was at this point deeply engrossed in the l'amour being detailed behind the door, was too enraptured to respond; Japan paused only briefly to sneak in several pictures of Hungary and Prussia before returning to listening.

Getting up and dusting himself off, Prussia frowned, "Hey, what's with the unawesome—"

"If you don't want my frying pan to connect with your face in the next five minutes, then I suggest that you be quiet and listen to what's going on behind that door," Hungary interrupted, a dark aura gathering around her. Wisely, Prussia complied.

Somehow not having noticed the commotion going on outside the door, Romania continued, "Anyway, what're your thoughts on this, Norway? I hope you're not too disappointed with America's . . . well, you know."

Hands twitching, a stressed-out Norway muttered, "Must . . . resist . . . urge . . . to strangle . . ."

"Bro, you okay over there?" America asked, oblivious to the dark aura that had appeared around Norway. "You look kind of like Britain before he—"

"Before I do what, you git?" Britain snapped.

"N-nothing," America hurriedly amended.

 _Only that I've already lost almost a quarter of our new money mountain,_ Norway added in his mind, recalling the bets he had made with Monaco and Macau. America was currently whooping as he bounced around the bed, his paws making a mess of the sheets; said nation had used the words "wicked rad" within the last ten minutes; the only two things left were . . .

"Well, your magic worked properly this time," Norway sighed. "That's an improvement, isn't it?"

Britain's facepalm could be heard from the other side of the door. "I was _trying_ to clean the room when the bugger walked in. But now, as you can see, that bloody twat has been turned into something that could have come out of _Narnia_!"

 _Well. There goes another hundred million dollars._

"Oh yeah?" America piped up. "Well, can those Narnia dudes do _this_ , dude?"

His challenge was followed by the bed creaking, sheets shifting again, something thumping against the floor, multiple gasps, a groan, and—

" _THAT'S IT, I'VE GOT TO SEE THIS_!" France and Hungary declared in unison, their announcement accompanied by roses and head-sparkles. Next to them, Japan was starting to lose consciousness due to the scale of his nosebleed and Prussia was still staring at the door with a massive sweatdrop.

Looking up, Japan quickly stammered, "W-wait, I don't t-think that's a good—"

Too late, the door opened to reveal the Magic Trio and . . .

. . . a cat that appeared to be wearing a pair of glasses lying on the floor tangled in a mess of sheets in an upside-down cocoon.

Several moments of silence passed. Finally, it was the cat that asked, "Dude, what's with Japan and Prussia?"

"Is that . . . _Amerique_?" France gaped.

Now clearly stressed, Norway repeated under his breath, "Must . . . resist . . ."

Denmark chose that moment to walk in.

"Hey, Prussia!" he chirped, oblivious to the stunned state of the room. "I totally found a beer fountain downsta— _ACK_! _Norway, didn't see you there_!"

Realizing that he'd finally been pushed over the limit, Norway sighed and simply decided to make the most out of the situation by making Denmark's strangling just that much more painful. And although he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it, Norway still couldn't shake off the guilt that nagged at him when he considered . . .

 _So. That money mountain kind of went to waste._

Dammit.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Japan: "So. That happened."**

 **. . . I'm probably going to be slipping in various explanations of this chapter throughout the notes down here, so let's do this, bros!**

 **Monaco and Macau make the following bets against Norway: that America will be turned (temporarily) into a (talking) animal by the Magic Trio *cough* _all-Britain's-_ (awesome) _-fault_ *cough*; Norway would hear America use the words "wicked rad" within the next ten minutes following the bets being made; Britain will have made another (again, _AWESOME_ ) spell go wrong; Norway will wind up strangling Denmark within the next half hour following the bets being made (possibly due to stress).**

 **Reviewer NoNumbersInMyUsername requested something about America's military. I personally don't know too much about it—although he _does_ apparently have the highest military budget in the world—so I looked up some stuff about it and . . . actually, I still don't really understand it, but I might be getting closer, so yay! ^J^ Coincidentally, though, I was asked about my opinion on America's military today; when I didn't respond immediately, the person who'd inquired proceeded to express his disappointment in the American military, and my indignant response (because it's National Cheeseburger Day, which means that we can't let America feel too down in the dumps) can be summed up in three words: AIRCRAFT. CARRIERS. _WOW_. Though since the mentioning of America's military is kind of brief here, another reference might pop up in a later chapter, so look out for that!**

 **Guest reviewer PolukrGirl requested for a situation in which Norway is forced not to strangle Denmark. Immediately, my mind leapt (by the way, the SpellCheck here doesn't seem to recognize the word "leapt" . . . sorry, Britain! ^J^) to Monaco and Macau—and of course, they're pretty intent on winning back their money mountain. ^J^ And Norway kind of goes through some withdrawal symptoms in this chapter when forced not to strangle Denmark . . . and eventually gives in.**

 **Norway: *still strangling Denmark* *deadpan* "He was asking for it."**

 **Denmark: " _ACK_! Sorry, bro!"**

 **Reviewer InsideMyBrain requested Ameripan ship tease, someone overhearing America calling someone "an animal" and assuming that he meant said person was "an animal" in bed *wink*wink*nudge*nudge* when in really they were literally turned into an animal by Britain or Romania, and a third request that I'll probably fulfill within the next five chapters. ^J^ It got kind of tweaked, but I hope it's still okay. As with NoNumbersInMyUsername's request, I'm not sure if I've quite fulfilled the ship tease requested, so some more Ameripan ship tease may pop up in another chapter.**

 **The requests of reviewer MehLikey and reviewer Tail Tie will also likely be fulfilled within the next five chapters. Yay!**

 **Poland: *walks in* "Seriously, like, where did I find those shoes . . . ? Oh, and stay like, totally fabulous!"**


	26. America's Friends are Super Hardcore!

**A/N: This update came much later than anticipated, so prepare for my totally unacceptable excuse because this one's a doozy: _wr_ _iter's-block-laziness-lots-of-homework-SCHOOL-WHY-trying-not-to-procrastinate-on-homework-but-winding-up-procrastinating-on-writing-again-SCHOOL-WHY-trying-to-eat-at-regular-intervals-which-is-kind-of-unrelated-but-eating-takes-time-so-yeah_! (I warned you! ^J^)**

 **But in all seriousness, I'm sorry I didn't update this chapter sooner. School's a lot more time-consuming *cough* _PROCRASTINATION-INDUCING_ *cough* than expected. But don't worry! I'm still going by my minimum of at least one chapter per week, so—**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* "I know you're not Japan—unless he's in another disguise—but something _BIG_ has happened."**

 **Me: ". . . More requests?"**

 **Hungary: " _NO_! Well, yes—from Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli and Guest reviewer Marguerita and reviewer Rebecca Frost—but that's not the big thing here!"**

 **Me: "Okay . . . a) I accept; expect the aforementioned requests to be completed within or around the next five chapters, and b) _WHAT-IS-THE-BIG-THING-YOU'RE-STRESSING-ME-OUT-NOT-KNOWING_!"**

 **Hungary: "Well . . ." *dramatic pause***

 **France: *pops in* "Mon ami, we have surpassed a hundred reviews! This is a lot better than over a hundred years of warring with Angleterre . . ."**

 **Hungary: *dark aura* "You. Stole. My. _Line_! Give it back . . . _GIVE IT BA_ — Wait, what's up with the author?"**

 **Me: *flailing around* " _SO_. _AWESOME_. WOOT!"**

 **Monaco: *faces crowd of nations* "As you may have observed, the author has, once again, spazzed out in glee, hence you all now owe me—"**

 **Germany: *sighs* "Ja, we know. Just let us get this over with already!"**

 **Macau: *grins deviously* "Oh, but we're not done yet!"**

 **Germany: *facepalms* "Gott im Himmel . . ."**

 **Macau: "Our forecast for this chapter includes references to the previous chapter, 'America's a Beast!', to the chapter before it, 'America's Pizzas', to Chapter 16, 'America's Lawn Service', and to certain awesome, sparkly events, the contents of which were deemed too awesome to be described in our prediction. Additionally, we're expecting to see some action involving America and a mattress with a chance of more devious grins, as well as—"**

 **Germany: "Why do you have to speak of such vulga—Wait. _America_ and a mattress? No way!"**

 **Monaco: "So, I take it you'll be involved in the betting?"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Friends are Super Hardcore!: Requested by reviewer InsideMyBrain**

* * *

"You're not a bloody cat anymore, so quit jumping on the bed, you twat!" Britain snapped. The Magic Trio had finally found a spell to change America back, but the nation still refused to stop bouncing on the mattress.

"Aw, but Britain—"

"Oh, don't try pulling that trick, you git," Britain groaned. "It was already enough when you were a feline getting your paws all over that thing—what made you think it was a good idea to attempt a backflip as a _cat_?—but now, it's _still_ tiring, and don't even get me started on what beastly damage you're going to inflict on the bloody springs in that mattress."

Japan, who was still laying outside in the hallway and who had finally regained consciousness following his massive nosebleed during the National Cheeseburger Day party, promptly lost it again upon hearing the tail end of Britain's statement.

"Whoa, you really think so?" America grinned. "That's awesome, man! But yeah, I guess this bed just can't handle my beastly moves, huh? Well, I guess I'll just have to move to an awesomer one to fix that problem, because that's what the Hero's for!"

"Why do you sound so bloody _smug_ about it, you twat?" Britain gawked, surprised at America's response.

"Well, you kind of called me 'beastly'—thanks again, by the way, dude—so why wouldn't I be?" America pointed out.

"I don't know, perhaps _because I called you 'beastly'_?" asked Britain. America thought for a moment.

"Nah, still beastly and proud," America flashed him a thumbs-up. "And you know what else is totally beastly, bro?"

"What?" Britain muttered, already cringing in anticipation of America's answer.

"Burgers, fries, anything with a name that starts with 'super' . . . . Oh yeah, and there's also _shakes_ , pizza, pretty much anything else you might find at a fast food place, all the video games that Japan lets me play—seriously, they're wicked rad—Italy's driving, chips, and of course, there's me, since again, I'm totally the Hero! Wait, and then there's still—"

" _That's enough_!" Britain finally intervened. America pouted. "Blimey, that almost tops the list of bloody pizzas . . . and did you list _burgers_? I mean, I know they're ghastly, but I wouldn't expect _you_ to admit it."

"What do you mean, 'ghastly'?" America asked, flopping over on the bed curiously.

"That's the bloody _definition_ of 'beastly', you twat!" Britain snapped.

"No way, bro!" America exclaimed, popping upright. "That's totally not it, dude. Is this another one of your weird British double-meanings or whatever?"

"Great, _another_ slang difference we can add to the book," Britain said. "And again, _you're_ the one who's butchering the language!"

"Whoa, there's a book?" America asked excitedly, ignoring the second half of Britain's comment.

"No," Britain deadpanned. "But what _does_ 'beastly' mean to you?"

"Well, everyone knows that 'beastly' totally means hardcore, bro!" America happily declared. Britain facepalmed.

"Where the bloody hell did you get _that_ from, you git?"

And suddenly, Austria started loudly playing a song on the piano that totally hadn't been present in the room three seconds ago . . . . No, not really.

But an awesome bull totally broke through the wall just then with the Bad Touch Trio on board, so that's got to count for something, right?

" _DID SOMEONE AWESOMELY SAY THE WORDS 'HARDCORE PARTY'_?" Prussia grinned, already in his party pants and rubber boots.

"No, but we said 'hardcore'!" America beamed. In the background, Britain let out a string of swear words at Spain that was probably supposed to have something to do with the wreckage caused by their entrance, but that "something" was drowned out by all the times he used the words "bloody", "wanker", "idiotic", and "money"—so he could've also been referring to a bet with Monaco and Macau. Sounds pleasant, no?

"Oh," said Spain, oblivious to Britain's insults. He nodded at the bull. "Then I guess you can be dismissed, toro."

So the bull obediently left through the door this time . . . by literally bursting through the door, inciting another round of ranting from Britain, which was only stopped when France said the magic words.

"Well, everyone knows that the French are the most hardcore of them all," he smirked.

" _YOU_?" Britain guffawed.

"Oui," France confirmed. "After all, I'm so hardcore, I invented a handheld device that can slice through both wood _and_ the only good non-metal conductor of electricity."

"Do you mean a pencil sharpener?" Spain asked.

Britain scoffed. In response, France snapped, "Well, you're one to laugh! You invented something called 'wine gums'—and it doesn't even have alcohol in it!"

" _You_ eat frog legs. That's practically cannibalism!" Britain snapped. When America chuckled, he whirled on the younger nation. "And you—how are _you_ one of the world's largest importers of frog legs?"

". . . Who cares, dude? Let's get on with this argument!" America whooped, causing multiple winces—Spain and Prussia fortunately remained oblivious to this noise—as he hastily changed the topic. "On the one hand, Britain invented the lawnmower, which we awesomely used to trash France's garden."

"If by 'trash' you mean we added a whole lot of awesome to it!" Prussia exclaimed, promptly starting up a chant of " _BEER_! _BEER_! _BEER_!"

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, Denmark leapt up in the middle of a Nordics meeting, causing Norway to lose his grip on the tie he'd been strangling said nation with and toppling his chair over.

Finland looked up. "Hey, what's the matter, Denmark?"

"Just the sound of beer!" Denmark announced.

Iceland frowned. "But weren't we in the middle of discussing—"

"Too late, got to go, already missed more than ten seconds of the chanting, bye!" Denmark shouted, quickly excusing himself as he ran out the door to join in on the " _BEER_!" chant. Behind him, the other Nordics shared a collective sweatdrop.

Finally, Sweden spoke. "Do you think we'll actually get something done without him?"

* * *

After Denmark joined them in America's bedroom—Hey, get your mind out of the gutter!—America continued, not questioning his fellow Awesome Trio's sudden appearance in the room while France facepalmed in a corner, "On the other hand, _France_ invented bikinis."

Hearing this, France paused with his hand halfway to his face, his mood suddenly considerably lighter as he summoned head-sparkles and declared, "Ah, yes, I remember that! It was a triumph in the human body, a—"

"A piece of cold, hard evidence of your state of being a bloody pervert!" Britain snapped.

"So you agree that it's hardcore?" France grinned deviously.

Choosing not to respond to that question, Britain sighed, "Anything else you'd like to add to the argument, America?"

"Well, France is so hardcore that he eats pain for breakfast," America said thoughtfully. Upon seeing Britain's dubious look, he asked, "What? We all know that he has a thing for baguettes, bro!"

"Was that a bloody _innuendo_?" Britain gagged.

Not noticing Britain's comment, America went on, "But on the other hand, Britain's so hardcore that he eats _his own cooking_ for breakfast."

"My cooking's just fine, you twat!" Britain snapped.

Sensing impending doom—a technique perfected by having spent time with certain members of the Yaoi Army—Spain, Prussia, and Denmark sweatdropped. "Uh, we'll be heading out about now . . ."

". . . I think you win, Angleterre," France shuddered, following his fellow members of the Bad Touch Trio and Denmark out the door. "No one deserves to be subject to that kind of torture . . ."

" _YOU GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT_ , _FROG_!" Britain fumed, stomping out after France and fully prepared to strangle the other nation.

Back inside the room, America pouted at suddenly being left all alone. Then he remembered that no one was there to prevent him from jumping on the mattress, and promptly grew an almost France-level devious grin.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Yeah, as soon as the others are out of the room, America's going to be seeing a lot more action on the mattre— _What did I say about getting your mind out of the gutter_! ^J^**

 **Reviewer InsideMyBrain requested for America to yell "the French are so hardcore they eat pain for breakfast", since "pain" means "bread" in French . . . and of course, I _had_ to turn it into an innuendo . . . ^J^ And I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter! (I really was disappointed when the school cafeteria wasn't serving cheeseburgers for lunch . . . _WHY_? Though they did have other sandwiches . . . but they're not the same! ^J^)**

 **So, time for some sort-of-definitions!**

 **"Pain": To recap, it's something you might crave in French, but not in English.**

 **Britain: *still stomping after France* " _PREPARE FOR A WORLD OF PAIN, FROG_!"**

 **France: *summons head-sparkles* "Ooh! I'd like to request some boule, brioche, and—and this one is of the utmost importance, Angleterre— _baguettes_. Lots and lots of them, s** **'il vous plaît! This level of generosity seems beyond you!"**

 **Britain: "Bloody hell!"**

 **On a somewhat-related note, when searching up breads of French origin, I read that apparently, croissants are of Austrian origin. Interesting stuff! But now, after seeing all the pastries . . . I think I'm hungry again. And to think I just recently ate breakfast! ( _WHY, YOU BLASTED APPETITE_! ^J^)**

 **"Beastly": It's defined as "very unpleasant" in Merriam-Webster, but in American slang, it may also be used as a sort of substitute for "awesome" or "wicked rad"—kind of similar to the word "gnarly", which is defined as both "very difficult or bad" and "very good" in Merriam-Webster.**

 **On a side note, the request of Guest reviewer Mavis was fulfilled in "Prussia's in the Entertainment Industry!" (Chapter 7 of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ ). ^J^**

 **America: *jumping on the mattress again* "Stay totally awesome, bros!"**


	27. America's Vegas 2: Part 1

**A/N: Two. Bloody. Weeks. Yes, I'm disappointed in myself. But on the other hand, now that I've pretty much gotten over that spell of Writer's Block and posted a chapter that comes in parts (WOOT!), the next couple updates should be more frequent than that.**

 **Now, switching to a different topic . . . almost fifty follows and favorites! _YES_! We've really come so far, guys, and you still never fail to make my day. ^J^**

 **This chapter fulfills the request of reviewer MehLikely and briefly refers to the request of reviewer Tail Tie—the following parts of this subplot (unless Britain suddenly appear to tell me that it's not a subplot and that it's something el—)**

 **Britain: *shaking fist* "It's not a bloody subplot, you git!"**

 **Me: *sweatdrop* "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Well, what is it?"**

 **Britain: *briefly consults the internet* "It's a plotline."**

 **Alright then! So, as I was saying, the following parts of this plotline (as in the parts that will be appearing in the next few chapters) should elaborate on and fulfill these requests as well as several more, so look out for that!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Vegas 2.0: Part 1: Requested by reviewer MehLikey and reviewer Tail Tie**

* * *

"I still think we should have constructed the city somewhere else," said Macau, watching as their income skyrocketed before their very eyes as a result of the various neon-colored casinos that had been hastily constructed around them.

Normally, it probably would've taken an insanely-long time to build all of it, but with Macau's connections with China and China's experience with the art of instantly-constructing-entire-cities-out-of-the-same-place-where-France-gets-his-roses-from-AKA-what-may-or-may-not-just-be-thin-air-and-stocking-them-with-lots-and-lots-of-foo— _AHEM_ , that is, with China's experience with Chinatowns, they only had to pay the nation for his help using a sizeable portion of their hoard, watch as the construction workers started rapidly building in a massive dust cloud, and then wait for the aforementioned cloud to clear up and reveal El Dorado, a newly-constructed South American gambling paradise. Or, to put it more bluntly, their newest and oh-so-successful moneymaking scheme.

"Well, we originally planned on building it in Kiev, eh? Ukraine does have such bountiful tracks of land," Monaco reminded him, seemingly oblivious to the strange look Macau was giving her, "Though because she has since reclaimed it—in a very badass manner that is too badass to be repeated—South America will have to do for now, oui?"

Considering his companion's previous statements, Macau blinked. "Are you _sure_ you're Monaco?"

"Of course," Monaco scoffed, gesturing dismissively. "And don't worry, no other nations will be able to find this place."

"I'd bet against you on that, but we share a money mountain, so if I did so currently, I would not monetarily profit off of it," Macau commented.

"What makes you think that I'm incorrect?" Monaco asked.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Macau mused. Inclining his head toward a figure walking in their direction, he said, "Perhaps that?"

Monaco huffed slightly as she turned to look at what Macau was gesturing at. "Oh, please. It's— _NETHERLANDS_?"

Catching her gawking at him, the Netherlands frowned. "What, did you think you could hide this amount of money from me?"

"But . . . the currency is in plastic!" Monaco protested, rapidly fumbling through her wallet to show him all the casino tokens inside.

"Money is money," the Netherlands shrugged.

"Alright, but I'm still willing to bet that _no other nations_ will find us here," Monaco said firmly, putting away her wallet again.

"Hmm? I might take you up on that offer, but I'm not sure if my boss would like me spending my money like that right now," Greece replied, stroking a cat on a nearby bench.

Monaco jumped slightly at the nation's sudden appearance. " _Greece_? Who else is in El Dorado?"

Right on cue, Spain came hurtling towards them with a head-sparkle-worthy expression on his face; France, Britain, and Romano chasing after him. Well, mostly Britain—France and Romano were chasing in more of a _oh-so-this-is-happening-again-okay-then-so-what-was-that-other-thing-about-Tokaji-wine?-yeah-okay-oh-right-we're-supposed-to-be-following-that-guy_ kind of way.

" _EL DORADO_! I HAVE FINALLY FOUND IT, MI AMIG—Hey, where'd Portugal go?"

"To the damn casinos," Romano deadpanned, walking beside him with a look of sheer boredom.

"And what do you mean ' _you_ ' found it, you wanker?" Britain glared threateningly, a dark aura expanding around him as Monaco tried to make sense of the situation. He and Spain promptly entered an intense stare-off punctuated by Romano's exclamations of "Hey, are you listening, you bastard? You better be paying attention, jerk!" and France repeatedly asking if he could join the oncoming fight. However, he resigned himself to sulking when he received no response.

But of course, this awesome stare-off was awesomely broken by a certain someone even awesomer popping up between them and declaring, "Ja, it was obviously all because of the awesome me that we found this place, kesesese!"

"No. Bloody. _WAY_." Spain and Britain whirled on Prussia, prepared to unleash their wrath on him. Fortunately for said awesome individual, the two furious nations were interrupted by the arrival of two more nations—er, three? The third one doesn't seem to be entirely opaque . . .

"Uh, yeah," America hopped in, appearing with Denmark and What's-His-Face in tow and chewing on a burger as he—Wait, since when did he own a bullwhip, a fedora, and . . . was that a purse? "Either way, neither of you guys are responsible for this, dudes. After all, I'm the one who gave you guys the deets."

" _ARE YOU WEARING A PURSE_?" the others gaped in unison, with France tacking an "ohonhonhon" at the end, causing Britain to deliver him a good, hard smack across the—Hey, is that your mind in the gutter over there? If so, _get it out_!

"Well, you're no fun," France pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on his face. However, his eyes quickly lit up as soon as he saw Monaco. "Ah, Monaco! Long time no see, non? You simply must tell me _everything_ you've been— _OW_! One time was more than enough, Angleterre!"

"Says you," Britain smirked at the effects of his second slap.

"It's a satchel!" America insisted in the background. Heh, yeah, _sure_ . . . and that other dude _totally_ wasn't his clone, either.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," said the guy who was totally America's clone, smiling slightly.

Noting his companion's still-shocked expression, Macau said, "Well, what's that phrase I'm looking for? Oh, right— _I told you so_. Good thing you didn't lose any money from it, though. Do you think we should grab some lunch about now?"

Ignoring Macau's change in topic, Monaco continued to gawp, "How did this occur?"

Slinging an arm around Monaco's shoulders and disregarding the warning look she shot him, Prussia cackled, "Ja, well, it started when America had to go shopping . . ."

* * *

America sighed as he flopped back onto his couch next to Denmark and Birdie—You know, Canada! What do you mean, you don't know who he is? He's right there! See? The awesome me told you so. Anyway, back to the story. So, as America was sighing . . . "I feel so unawesome right now and I totally have to go shopping, dudes—but I can't go shopping with just this level of awesomeness! Lame-o! No, I have to call someone who could add a whole lot more awesome to the experience. A _LOT_ more awesome. Hmm, whoever could I call who would fit such a description?"

Denmark and Birdie shared a knowing look. Birdie asked, "Think we should tell him?"

Denmark nodded. "Yes. Right now, he _needs_ that level of awesome to be awesomely present."

"But . . . will he be able to handle such awesomeness?" Birdie wondered.

"There's only one awesome way to awesomely find out," Denmark answered. Turning to America, he said, "America, the one who can awesomely fulfill that level of awesomeness is Prus—"

He was cut off by America's phone conversation.

"Oh Prussia, the awesomest one of them all," he was already in the middle of solemnly saying, "Will you please awesomely enlighten me with your awesome presence and make my shopping trip that much awesomer, oh Awesome One? For I—"

* * *

" _That's_ _totally not how it went_!" Denmark, America, and this so-called "Canada" exclaimed.

"And since when did you know the word 'solemnly', you potato bastard?" asked Romano.

"Yeah, yeah," Prussia waved dismissively. "Anyway, as I was saying—"

"No way are we letting that story continue, you wanker!" Britain huffed.

"You're just jealous of my awesomeness," Prussia accused. Grinning, he added, "Not that I blame you."

" _YOU BLOODY_ —Anyhow, we received the call in the middle of a Bad Touch Trio meeting," said Britain, continuing the story.

"Why were you at a Bad Touch Trio meeting?" Greece asked.

"Oh, not much," Britain assured him. "It was just because I was caught in a brutal battle with that bloody frog and they couldn't figure out how to get us to stop strangling each other in time for the Bad Touch Trio meeting, so they _had_ to let me come along. Nothing out of the usual. So, as I was saying . . ."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Reviewer MehLikely requests for Monaco to bet something but lose miserably because a) America's actions caught them by surprise and b) they were betting against Greece. ^J^ Still, diverging a bit from the request, Monaco somehow manages to get lucky and—Mind. Gutter. Out. _Now_! But she's probably feeling pretty miserable that she lost a bet, even if she didn't lose any money in the process.**

 **Reviewer Tail Tie had two requests. One was for Monaco and Macau to create their version of El Dorado in South America using their betting earnings and for Spain to drag the other "Awesome Touches" (Nice one, by the way—I'm going to have to use that term more often!) plus Romano and Portugal there to find the city. So of course, my mind jumps immediately to a Las Vegas 2.0. ^J^ As for the other request, it will be elaborated on in the next chapter, so I won't be fully revealing it here yet!**

 **"El Dorado": According to Wikipedia, it first referred to a Native American chief who covered himself in gold dust and leapt into a lake as part of a ritual of sorts, then to an imagined city, kingdom, and eventually to the supposed empire of this aforementioned king. It may also refer to two movies, one titled _El Dorado_ and one titled _The Road to El Dorado_ , the latter of which is animated. In Spanish, "El Dorado" translates to "The Golden One". Though Spain did a lot of searching for this fabled city, the Sir Walter Raleigh also made two expeditions in search of El Dorado according to Wikipedia, so in this chapter, Britain and Spain both want to be the first to find it.**

 **Spain: *practically glowing* "And I've finally done it, mi amigos!"**

 **Britain: "If by 'I've finally done it', you mean _I've_ finally done it."**

 **Spain: "No, no, no—I have spent too many resources on this to let the credit be taken by you!"**

 **Romano: *pops in* "Just get into the damn casinos already."**

 **"Las Vegas": A US city that also happens to be the most populous city in the state of Nevada, Las Vegas is also often referred to as simply "Vegas" and is known for its gambling, among other things. Both it and Los Angeles, another city in the US located in the bordering state of California (Ha! How's that for geography? Then again, they _are_ both in the US . . .), claim the title of "The Entertainment Capital of the World", according to Wikipedia, though Los Angeles apparently coined the term first. At the time I am typing this up, both cities are at 39% humidity. ^J^**

 **And as for the requests of Guest reviewer Dorothy and reviewer nightwing5723, _challenge accepted_! Prussia?**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, stay awes—Hey, is that another fight between Britain and France? Awesome! Someone get the popcorn!"**

 **Romano: *gestures at massive dust cloud of fighting* "That's _Spain_ , dammit!"**

 **Prussia: ". . . So are you going to get the popcorn or is it going to be up to the awesome me?"**


	28. America's Vegas 2: Part 2

**A/N: So, here's Part 2 of "America's Vegas 2.0"! It sort of fulfills/refers to the requests of reviewer Tail Tie and Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli, which will likely be elaborated on in the next cha—**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* " _I COME BEARING NEWS_."**

 **Me: "Hmm? As in requests?"**

 **Hungary: "N—Yeah, by reviewer OverRule. Accepted?"**

 **Me: *nods sagely* "Like a letter to Hogwarts . . . actually, that one might be sort-of-fulfilled in this chapter, too. Well, sort of. Now continue before this A/N gets too long!"**

 **Hungary: "Alright, but don't spazz out this time . . . _we've surpassed fifty follo_ —Hey, I told you not to spazz out!"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Vegas 2.0: Part 2: Requested by reviewer Tail Tie, Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli, and reviewer OverRule**

* * *

"Hey, Britain! I'm adding prefixes and suffixes to words that aren't supposed to have them to butcher the bloody brilliant English language with words like 'unawesome' and 'lame-o' to fill the gaping void that is my bloody soul," said Prussia, cackling for _no bloody reason_. "Oh yeah, and can you stop strangling the bloody frog so that we wankers can get on with the meeting?"

Of course, the strangling continued for a while longer because the bloody frog deserved it and because nothing ever really gets done at a bloody Bad Touch Trio meeting anyhow other than the purposeful mangling of the English language.

Still, for some reason, Spain and Prussia felt the urge to eat _popcorn_ while observing the frog's clobbering, but that could probably be attributed to the fact that Britain was in a room of bloody idiots at the moment—just like at any other bloody moment of his bloody day, actually. However, the frog's trouncing was, unfortunately, interrupted by Prussia's reception of a phone call, so Britain mercifully—and very, _very_ reluctantly—paused in the process of clobbering the aforementioned bloody fro—

* * *

"I was _not_ 'clobbered'!" France protested, interrupting Britain's rendition of the story and inciting a chorus of " _Sure_ you weren't, France/frog/wine bastard/mi amigo/lame-o!" with varying degrees of sincerity as well as an exclamation of "Dudes, how come there's not a burger place around here?" To this, France responded, "What? I managed to retain my fabulous hair, after all. I'll never truly 'lose' as long as I look amazing!"

"That's, like, so true," Poland agreed, running up to join them with Lithuania and a grocery bag in tow.

"Hey, looks like you escaped from the crossfire!" Denmark chirped.

" _Crossfire_?" Monaco, Macau, and the Netherlands repeated.

Lithuania shrugged slightly. "Yeah. It was hard to save the shoes, but we managed to escape."

"But wow, what is this place?" Poland asked, switching the topic as he stared around at the casino wonderland Monaco and Macau had constructed. "It's so shiny and, like, totally fabulous!"

"Like my hair," France added with a smirk.

America flashed them a big thumbs-up. "It's Vegas Two-Point-O, bro!"

"That's not its name," the person previously identified as "Canada" sighed, feeling a sort of sympathy for the city already. Not that anyone noticed his comment.

"It's called 'El Dorado'," Monaco corrected. "Now, what was that again about 'crossfire'?"

"That? Just something that went on at the store," said Greece, still stroking a cat from his spot on a bench.

Macau stared at him. "You were there?"

Greece thought for a moment. "Well . . ."

* * *

"If you fed off of cuteness, maybe we wouldn't have to come here to buy food for you all," Greece mused as he strode up to the grocery store followed by the Grecian Army, the members of which simply meowed in reply. However, as soon as he activated the sliding doors, a loud cry rang out from inside the building.

" _NO_! _NOT THE PASTA_!"

Startled by this sudden exclamation, the Grecian Army turned their adorably-fluffy tails and fled the scene. Sighing, Greece went to regroup them. "Why does this happen every time I go shopping . . . ?"

* * *

". . . And that's how I found my way here," Greece finished, scratching behind the cat's ears.

"By following your _cats_?" Prussia snickered.

"Yes, by following my noble and huggable army," Greece nodded seriously. Looking thoughtfully to the side, he added, "I'm not sure what the shouting was all about, though . . ."

"Oh, I can, like, totally fill you in on that," Poland beamed. When the others waited for him to continue, he said, "Okay, so Liet and I went to the grocery store to look for these totally fabulous heels, and—"

"Grocery stores aren't supposed to sell any damn shoes, you bastard!" Romano cut in vehemently.

In response, Poland enthusiastically reached into the grocery bag and pulled out two shoes to show the others. "Well, this one, like, totally did. Check it! These heels are, like—"

"Just continue with the bloody story, will you?" Britain groaned before Poland could go into the shoes in too much detail.

"If you say so," said Poland, pouting slightly as he carefully—and of course, very, _very_ reluctantly—put the heels back in the box. "So as I was saying, Liet was, like, totally doubting my abilities as a fabulous shopaholic . . ."

* * *

"I totally don't think that grocery stores are, like, supposed to sell shoes, Poland," Liet totally sweatdropped as Poland dragged him down the shopping aisle in pursuit of fabulousness.

"Don't worry, I'm, like, totally fabulous enough to find them," Poland assured him, because let's face it—Poland totally was. Is. Am. Point is, Poland totally _would_ be finding those fabulous heels!

And, after several minutes of, like wandering around, he totally did, because sitting on the bottom shelf of an aisle full of, like, garnishes and seasonings or something—either way, it was totally full of food stuff—were two totally fabulous heels.

"See, Liet?" Poland grinned, "I totally told you that we'd, like, find them here."

"Wow, it looks like you're totally right," Liet agreed, looking totally impressed by Poland's fabulous shopping skills because, like, why not? But now all that was left was, like, making sure that no one got to those fabulous shoes before Poland, so Poland did what he had to do to ensure that he'd totally grab those heels first. "W-Wait, you totally don't have to, like, dive for them!"

"It's, like, part of the shopping process!" Poland called as he dove for the heels and totally bumped into something in the process.

Oh, and as he snatched up the shoes, a bowl of pasta like, totally fell to the ground next to him and splatted, like, all over the aisle—No idea where it came from, though; totally didn't see anybody, like, standing there or anything, so that was totally weird. Still, at least Poland's fabulousness automatically repelled the pasta so that none of it, like, landed on him or the heels, because he's just _that_ fabulous.

* * *

"Uh, is he, like okay?" Poland broke off to point to a shuddering America, who had curled into a defensive ball on the ground and was now rambling incoherently; some words sounded suspiciously like "ghosts", "totally freaky, man", and "seriously, if only this place had some burgers".

"He'll be fine within the next twenty-four hours," Monaco assured him dismissively. "Anyhow, you still have not fully addressed the matter of the aforementioned 'crossfire', eh?"

"Well, this bloody git over here," Britain said, gesturing at the still-muttering America toward the side, "saw the pasta on the ground and had the bloody _brilliant_ idea of starting a food fight."

"Whoa!" America, his previous dilemma forgotten, leapt to his feet excitedly. "Dude, did you finally acknowledge how awesome my ideas are? Awesome—I totally knew this day would come, bro!"

"It's sarcasm, you twat!" Britain snapped; despite this, America continued to consecutively fist-pump in triumph in the background. "That fight was bloody brutal and you know it!"

"Oui," France agr—Wait, they _agreed_ on something? "It's a wonder that my hair made it out unscathed . . . actually, never mind—my hair is too beautiful to be ruined, non?"

"Only _you_ would describe your own hair as 'beautiful', you bloody frog!" Britain whirled on him, fuming.

However, before they could launch into another argument/strangling session, Poland, in response to France's statement, said, "Really? You've got to, like, totally spill what happened to _you_ in the battle. Like, seriously. Spill."

Seeing the foreboding grin that spread across France's face at this, Britain and Romano exclaimed in simultaneous horror, "No, no, no, _NO_! There is _no_ way that we're going to let that frog/wine bastard tell that story in his perv—"

"Don't worry, Romano," Spain smiled obliviously, "France is about to tell a story! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Merci, mon ami," France replied, ignoring Britain and Romano's panicked gazes. "So, after Amerique called, the three of us members of the Bad Touch Trio—plus Britain—embarked on a wondrous journey filled with l'amour and adventure to the place of the selling of life's necessities . . . and no, it wasn't a strip club . . ."

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **I feel kind of guilty leaving you on a sort-of-cliffhanger, but . . . "life's necessities" . . . ^J^**

 **The request of reviewer Tail Tie that I said would be elaborated on in this chapter still doesn't seem to have been fully fulfilled yet so I'll still refrain from fully revealing it here, but it _is_ where the grocery store comes from. ^J^ And of course, they're still presently in Monaco and Macau's**

 **Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli's request also still hasn't been gone into too much detail yet, so I'll also refrain from revealing it. (Leaving you on so many cliffhangers . . . *sweatdrop*)**

 **Reviewer OverRule's request was to "Put lé FRUK!", and I'm _STILL_ not sure whether or not that counted as ship tease . . . dang it! Though the phrasing of that request made me grin way more *cough* _deviously_ *cough* than I probably should have . . . ^J^**

 **France: *pops in* "Why, that is the power of l'amour, mon ami! So, who was it again that you said I'd be ship-teased with?"**

 **Me: *sweatdrop* "D-did I say 'ship tease'? Since I totally meant to say . . . uh . . . ' _chip grease_ '! Yeah! Hey, don't give me that look—don't you have a story to tell the others?"**

 **Romano: *still panicking* "Don't you damn _remind_ him about it, you bastard!"**

 **Oh yeah, and the other request of Guest reviewer Mavis was also fulfilled in "Turkey, Greece, and Cyprus Walked into a Bar", Chapter 9 of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_! It's been kind of overdue, so I hope you'll forgive me for that.**

 **Hmm, not much else to say here, I think. Well, other than that I'm probably looking forward to writing—as in typing—in France's perspective _WAY_ more than I should be. ^J^ Hey France, since you're still here, want to do the outro?**

 **France: *grins deviously* "But of course, _ohonhonhon_!"**

 **Romano: *running off into the distance* " _Save your damn self while you can, dammit_!"**


	29. America's Vegas 2: Part 3

**A/N: Well, this chapter wound up with several intimidatingly-large paragraphs—even though I sort of planned out how this chapter would go in my head, typing it up was an entirely different thing. *sweatdrop* Heh, heh. But in other news—**

 **Germany: *pops in* "Did someone say 'news'?"**

 **Japan: "Perhaps Hungary arrived before us and told you about the favorites already, since she does seem to be the one who keeps track of these things. In that case, at least we can still congratulate you on surpassing fifty favorites."**

 **Italy: "Ve, you must be so happy! And it's so cool that you're not freaking out this time, too."**

 **Me: "Oh, oka—Wait, we did _WHAT_?"**

 **Germany: *facepalms at author spazzing out* "Mein Gott . . . though at least this explains why our club receives so little funding."**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Vegas 2.0: Part 3: Requested by reviewer Tail Tie and Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli**

* * *

France. He's a pretty cool—scratch that, he's a _really_ cool—guy if you can somehow manage to see past his lush, fabulous hair and striking, Adonis-like features. No, you musn't scoff at this, mon ami! As you can surely see for yourself, his godlike features are as gorgeous and chiseled as a work of Michelangelo, as glorious as a— _Hey, quit snickering over there_! Mon dieu, is that so hard to believe? Well, France's features _are_ more handsome by far, so I can see why you might be doubtful, but I— _AHEM_ , the totally hot _narrator_ digresses.

Anyhow, this mysterious and fascinating creature known to the world as "France" had been called one fateful morning to grace Canada, America, and Denmark with the gift of his presence at the grocery store with the rest of the Bad Touch Trio . . . oh yes, and also with _another_ kitchen disaster waiting to hap— _Deny it all you want, Angleterre, but I assure you that my microwave didn't spontaneously combust on its own_!

 _. . . Fine, I'll skip to the battle if you so insist._

While the group split up into the food sections, the hot and super-cool France—possessing a sense of taste that has been refined and re-refined and re-re-re-refined over the centuries—naturally went off in search of garnish and seasonings so that the food may someday be as beautiful as France himself. However, considering the level of exquisiteness possessed by this alluring nation, it was highly unlikely that the food would ever come anywhere close. Still, that didn't mean it shouldn't try to, non? But when France stepped into the aisle, he found that he wasn't alone.

"Hey, Germany!" Italy beamed, picking up several seasonings to show said nation. He and Germany were in the process of examining a wall of these seasonings with what appeared to be a pot of pasta placed on the ground next to them. Germany looked like he just wanted to get it over with already—a feeling that France found completely incomprehensible, for why would Germany want to escape from the clutches of what was clearly l'amour tugging at the delicate strings of his hardened heart? "These will be great in the pasta, non? Too bad Japan isn't with us right now because he was separated from us due to a mission for the Yaoi Army—a mission that was totally real and not merely because the glorious and radiant France wanted to get us alone in hopes that we would finally give in to our UST while he was away, nope, not at all! Ve, I like pasta! Oh, and look, there's Big Brother now—Ciao, France! Would you like some pasta?"

". . . You brought food into the grocery store?" France blinked.

"Ve, why not? It's not like we're going to steal anything!" said Italy, tilting his head innocently enough as several cashiers shot them dubious looks. France sweatdropped; Italy placed the seasonings back on the shelf and lifted the pot of pasta toward him. "So, do you want some?"

"It would be rude to decline," France decided sensibly; then, seeing a slightly-transparent figure standing toward the side of the same aisle with fabulous hair, added, "and, if it's no trouble for you, perhaps we should offer another bowl for Canada as well, non?"

"Oh, of course I'll get some for Cana . . . uh . . . you, with the bear!" Italy hastily assured him, quickly scooping out two—Okay. Roses floating out in midair, I can handle. Head-sparkles summoned out of _nothingness_ , I can tolerate. The _Yaoi Army_ appearing out of _thin air_ , I can deal with. But _TWO BOWLS_ being manifested out of the middle of a grocery aisle where everything on the shelves is either a garnish or a seasoning? That's just unheard of. Hmm? Oh, right, moving along . . . "I'm so sorry I didn't see you there! It was an honest mistake, I promise!"

"It always is," Canada sighed, accepting the proffered pasta. However, in order to do so with both hands, he had to set down the bear he was carrying.

"Ow! Give me some warning next time, eh?" Kumajiro exclaimed as the bear made contact with the ground.

"Sorry about that, Kumajiffy," Canada apologized.

The bear simply stared at him. "Who're you?"

* * *

"Seriously though, _who_ is this bloody 'Canada' you speak of?" Britain demanded, finally interrupting France's story. He would have been surprised that he hadn't interrupted it anytime earlier, but right now he was too frustrated at not being able to figure out who this "Canada" figure was to care.

" _He's standing right next to you_!" France, Prussia, and America exclaimed in unison; Canada decided to settle for just facepalming and maybe wilting a little inside as he did so. Nothing too concerning.

Britain scoffed. "You wankers must be delusional."

"That's great and all, but we should, like, totally get on with the story," Poland, oblivious to the tension in the air, thankfully cut in before France could retort and launch into an argument with Britain. "So, you were totally just talking about how the bear asked who Canada was and if you, like, don't tell us what happens next, I'm, like, totally not going to help you work on your hair before the next World Meeting."

"Mon dieu, anything but that!" France yelped, automatically reaching to touch his own gorgeous hair protectively. Poland sent him a pointed look. "Oui, I'll continue—but you were there for this next part, mon ami."

"Like, really?" Poland asked eagerly. "What was I doing? Because whatever it was, I bet I, like, looked totally fabulous while doing it."

"Of course you did," Lithuania sweatdropped.

"So, how much did you say again?" Monaco, Macau, and the Netherlands—who, surprisingly, hadn't left yet—perked up at the use of the word "bet".

Waving dismissively, France continued, "It's quite simple, really . . ."

* * *

Immediately following the bear's question, Poland suddenly shot into the aisle and flying-tackled Canada, his battle cry—"It's, like, part of the shopping process!"—ringing through the store as his momentum took down both the other nation and the pair of heels he was apparently after _and_ the other nation, causing the bowl of pasta to fall out of his hands and clatter to the ground.

. . . Still, _why_ were there a pair of heels in the grocery store in the first place? But before France could ponder this any further, Italy let out a bloodcurdling scream.

" _NO_! _NOT THE PASTA_!" he shrieked, collapsing to his knees in front of his fallen comrade. He continued to mutter inconsolably to himself, snippet of which could be heard from where France was standing. "It was before her time . . . her expiration date was so, so far away . . ."

". . . We can buy more, if you would like," Germany offered, trying to reassure the mourning nation in vain. "We're already at a grocery store, after all."

"No!" Italy hiccupped miserably, "That pasta was i-irreplaceable—ve, we had so m-many good t-t-times together! Do you r-remember that day w-when we took her to the g-grocery store to look for t-toppings?"

"You mean today?" Canada asked, though his comment went largely unnoticed as Italy continued to grieve, Germany continued to try and fail to soothe said nation, and France continued to stand—in a manner that was totally not awkward, of course, because he was too glorious to be "awkward"—toward the side.

Lithuania, who had already joined the group by this point, was still in the process of profusely attempting to apologize for the incident when America and Britain fatefully walked into the aisle.

". . . and since I'm the Hero, I tota—Whoa, what's with all the carnage?"

"The twat knows the word 'carnage' yet somehow still hasn't heard of 'sarcasm'," Britain muttered. Then, seeing the tragedy before them, asked, "Wait a tic, is that pasta on the floor?"

" _And now she's gone forever_!" Italy wailed, thrown into a new round of sobs.

"Looks fine to me," America shrugged, attracting several dubious/hopeful/are-you-kidding-me looks from the other nations. This was understandable, though, considering how after years of living under Britain, America had tragically inherited the older nation's horrible sense of all things food-related, but at least he didn't have his eyebrow— _Angleterre, I'm in the middle of a story here_! _Mon dieu_ . . . "What, haven't you heard of the five-second rule?"

"Ve, how long has it been?" Italy wondered, hope flickering to life in his eyes—

". . . At least half an hour," Lithuania replied sheepishly, and that hope died as abruptly as the bowl of pasta had.

Oblivious to the somber mood that had settled over the others, America stared at the pasta thoughtfully, "Well, there's still one thing we can do with it . . ."

"Write an obituary?" Germany suggested.

In response, America simply grinned and hurled a ball of pasta at the nearest nation—which happened to be Britain.

" _FOOD FIGHT_!" he whooped as Italy cried out in anguish at the further-mutilated pasta in the background.

* * *

". . . and we were somehow all dragged into it," France concluded. "As I've already mentioned, my hair barely made it out intact."

"Oui, I heard what you said, but that still doesn't explain what was happening to Denmark, Prussia, Spain, and Romano throughout all of this, or why America's dressed like a movie character. And how did you all end up _here_?" Monaco asked impatiently.

"Sometime during the fighting, America heard about this place from China, who was somehow buying merchandise from a cartoon, bow-wearing cat franchise in an aisle that also sold canned food," Canada answered, adding, "Frankly, I'm not sure if we were at an actual grocery store at all . . ."

But of course, his comment went unnoticed, so Poland piped up, "Well, why don't we, like, ask them? Right, Liet?"

"Er . . . they left already," Lithuania sweatdropped.

" _WHAT_?"

"Spain followed Portugal into the casinos to continue gushing over his discovery of El Dorado, Romano followed Spain, America couldn't handle his burger withdrawal any longer so he went to find a place that serves fast food, Denmark was just recently strangled by Norway and dragged away, and Prussia left as well, saying something about 'the sudden lack of awesomeness in the area' or something similar," he explained apologetically.

The other nations blinked.

"So . . . what do we do now?" France asked.

Monaco and Macau shared a devious look, sensing profit on the horizon. "It's late at night and you're standing in the middle of a city full of casinos. Do you even have to ask?"

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **Italy: *shudders* "I think I just got traumatized . . ."**

 **Japan: "So, if surpassing fifty favorites wasn't the news you were talking about earlier, what was?"**

 **Me: "Well . . . I was going to say that this chapter is pretty much the finale of 'America's Vegas 2.0'!"**

 **The Newspaper Club: " _WHAT_?"**

 **Japan: "Three chapters of this and it ends on a sort-of-cliffhanger? I'm having some very mixed feelings right now . . ."**

 **Germany: *grabs author by the collar* "Nein, this can't be the end! You _have_ to tell me what happens next—I'm already stressed enough as it is!"**

 **Me: " _You were there_ —you already know what went down!"**

 **Germany: *lets go* "Oh. Ja."**

 **Me: "And relax, the next chapter's going to be a recap that will reveal more about what else was going on in the grocery store and briefly summarize other parts that have already been detailed . . . but I'm warning you, there may be several flashbacks present in it to show the aforementioned other-things-going-on. Once the recap's done, it'll be back to the other sort-of-oneshots!"**

 **Japan: ". . . I still think that my feelings are rather mixed right now."**

 **Yeah, yeah! I typed up these notes earlier, but then there was an error so now those approximately-four-hundred-or-so words went down the drain. Dang it! Ah, well, we can still make do.**

 **Reviewer Tail Tie requested for America and two others to go on an adventure in the grocery store . . . though there somehow wound up being more than three nations arriving there. *sweatdrop* There's still another part to it, though, which still won't be revealed because it will be elaborated on in the recap. In response to reviewer InsideMyBrain, I didn't have a specific grocery store in mind, so you can decide.**

 **Guest reviewer MyNameIsFeli requested for a pasta war, among other things that won't be revealed just yet. ^J^**

 **"Adonis": In terms of Urban Dictionary, this word may refer to a "very handsome man". In terms of Greek mythology, this word may also refer to a very handsome man.**

 **"Michelangelo": An Italian painter, sculptor, architect, and poet, among other things, during the Renaissance and considered to be one of the greatest artists of all time. Currently in the upper right corner of the Wikipedia page for "Renaissance", there is a picture of one of his works; the caption reads " _David_ , by Michelangelo (Accademia di Belle Arti, Florence) is a masterpiece of Renaissance and world art."**

 **"Carnage": May refer to gore, a supervillain of the same name, a film of the same name, or a magnet middle school of the same name, among other things.**

 **And in response to reviewer Yellow Pearl Mi, I appreciate that you took the time and effort to provide constructive criticism, which is always welcome—it is an indicator that I should step up my game in order to provide the highest caliber of humor that you're all looking for and deserve to receive, and for that I am extremely thankful. I realize that things may seem to be coming to a lull *cough* _WRITER'S-BLOCK-I'M-STARING-AT-YOU_ *cough* but I hope to overcome that block, pick up the pace again, and pay more attention to ensure that the chapters are up-to-par. ^J^ Still, I will try to update this fic with new chapters posted at a maximum of two weeks apart because sometimes, in order to conquer the block, I find that a successful tactic may be to work through it. In short . . . _challenge accepted_!**

 **Hmm, what else? Well, the franchise that China was buying merchandise from was Hello Kitty—or maybe just a knockoff of it. Newspaper Club?**

 **The Newspaper Club: "Stay fans of pasta/wurst/yaoi!"**

 **Prussia: *calls from a distance* "Lame-o!"**

 **Germany: " _Bruder_! I'm in the middle of an outro!"**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, but everyone knows that beer is superior! After all, if I drink it, then it _has_ to be. Stay awesome!"**

 **Germany: *facepalms* "Gott im Himmel . . ."**


	30. America's Tell-Tale Heart

**A/N: FINALLY BACK, GUYS! I meant to post this earlier, but then I kind of sort of got grounded from technology on the day I had planned to type this chapter on *cough*HALLOWEEN*cough* so now I'm about a week late, since this chapter was meant for Halloween and therefore doesn't really fulfill any requests that I am aware of. *sweatdrop* It does, however, have various references to a short story by Edgar Allan Poe titled "The Tell-Tale Heart", but if you're considering reading it before reading this chapter, I would suggest that you read the warning included in the notes at the bottom relating to said short story first because that thing? Absolutely TERRIFYING.**

 **Switching gears, it seems like you guys have been pretty busy in those past weeks because—**

 **Hungary: *bursts in* " _WE HAVE REACHED SIXTY FOLLOWERS_!"**

 **Me: *facepalms* "Dang it, I've been bested once more . . . I'm doomed to always being cut off in the intro, aren't I?"**

 **Hungary: *smiles innocently* "Of course!"**

 **But that's fine since you guys are so awesome. ^J^ Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go spazz out now in joy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers nor Hello Kitty.**

* * *

 **America's Tell-Tale Heart**

* * *

It was a typical World Meeting. China was venting to Panda about America's debt; however, Panda had, in truth, zoned out long ago and was instead staring very fixedly at China's . . . _Hello Kitty knockoff costume_? That _has_ to be out of dress code!

. . . Never mind that. Apparently, the official dress code simply states that they must come _wearing_ clothes—and that "roses don't count"—with a specific reference to someone by the name of "you frog". Huh.

But that's getting off-topic! Besides, it's probably just some merchandise he bought, nothing to be worried about—yeah, let's go with that. After all, it was, as stated, a _typical World Meeting_. See? Russia was even off to the corner of the room, scaring the heck out of both the Nervous, Trembling Trio and that at-least-somewhat-opaque-looking-being he was sitting on, so it _had_ to be one of their usual meetings! Then again, he _was_ wearing what appeared to be a clown costume as his dark aura expanded around him . . . the mere idea of which was, more likely than not, bound to inflict a great deal of trauma.

Actually, all the nations seemed to be wearing costumes at this World Meeting. Belgium was dressed as Red Riding Hood and the Netherlands appeared to be wearing wolf ears and a tail, though that could be attributed to fierce support of Team Jacob; Britain was dressed as a wizard, but that could also be attributed to an infatuation with roleplay; France was . . . wearing something that was probably supposed to be a costume as well, but it was hard to tell because it was a tad bit difficult trying to see past how _blindingly bright_ it was—seriously, it had to have been fabricated using the essence of a movie star's teeth or something in order to achieve that level of conspicuousness! But then again, the same could be said for just about everything else in France's wardrobe as well.

As for America, the nation in question was already seated and still apparently dressed as Indiana Jones, suspiciously quiet as he read a—

Wait, let's pause this right here for a sec. America was _reading_ during the discussion? Alright, this was definitely _not_ "a typical World Meeting" . . . but then again, was there ever a set standard for these things in the first place?

". . . and that is why that the two of you should totally greatly improve the existences of New Prussia and King of Prussia by adding in a lot more awesome—and by that, the awesome me means both the word _and_ the idea of it," Prussia concluded, grinning despite the fact that the nations who'd actually been listening to his presentation at first had facepalmed long ago. "So, Birdie, what do you think?"

As several nations made halfhearted attempts to figure out who this "Birdie" was—though most simply assumed that Prussia was either referring to Gilbird or being more delirious than usual—the aforementioned at-least-somewhat-opaque-being beneath Russia stopped struggling long enough to deadpan, "And how, exactly, do you expect me to work the word 'awesome' into a name like 'New Prussia'?"

"You can call it 'The New, Awesome-But-Not-As-Nor-Ever-Will-Be-Quite-As-Awesome-As-The-Awesome-Original-Other-Than-In-Its-Dreams-Though-Hey-It-Can't-Hurt-To-Try-Buddy Prussia'," he replied without the slightest trace of sarcasm to be found. This invoked a whole new round of facepalms, to which he sniggered, "Catchy, ja?"

"Mein Gott," Germany groaned, though it was hard to take him seriously when he appeared to be wearing a set of cat ears.

"At least this one was better than his plans on making 'broom music' a formally recognized subgenre of classical," Austria said pointedly, rubbing at his forehead. Speaking of classical music, he was really craving some time at the piano again just about now . . . playing some soothing music on its keys with sunlight streaming in through the window . . . maybe by candlelight if it was at night . . . and he could try out that new rose-scented air freshener, too . . .

It was just then that Hungary chose to turn around and noticed the nosebleed that had started to trickle down Austria's face.

"Oh, again?" she sighed, good-naturedly giving Austria—who had jumped slightly in response to her unexpected comment—the cue to pull out and start using the tissue stash she had convinced him to get into the habit of bringing. As the other nation dabbed at his nose, she added, "Really, this is the eleventh time this has happened today . . ."

"I know," he sighed, lamenting on his own low tolerance to this sort of thing. "It's just that—Wait, did you say you were _counting_?"

"Well, you might not like my awesome plan now, but you're sure to succumb to my awesomeness eventually, Birdie!" Prussia cackled self-assuredly. It was then that he decided to turn toward the other North American country involved in the "Catchy, ja?" plan of action, who just so happened to be a fellow member of the Awesome Trio and, having been mentioned as "a fellow member of the Awesome Trio", he felt was sure to agree with his awesome plan rather awesomely, ja? "So, America, what do you think abou—Wait, is that a _book_?"

As Prussia gawped at this, the other nations simply groaned again, mentally deciding that Prussia was, indeed, the delusional one—"Even more so than Angleterre and his 'fairies'"; "So you finally acknowledge that they're real!"; "It was sarcasm . . ."; "Bloody frog"—until, almost an entire minute of this starting-to-get-seriously-uncomfortable staring, they finally gave in, looked, and . . . realized that America was, indeed, actually reading a book.

"Bloody hell, this must be what the apocalypse feels like . . ."

"I thought we agreed that it wasn't going to happen, Angleterre!" France exclaimed, hands automatically reaching for his hair—since if the world was ending, he still wanted to look totally _fabulous_ as it did. Was that too much to ask? "Mon dieu, we've had two false alarms already—don't tell me I've missed a third!"

"By 'apocalypse', I was referring to the fate of the poor wanker unfortunate enough to be forced into a marriage with _you_ ," Britain deadpanned, though both nations shuddered at the reminder of their traumatic—yes, even more than the mere _idea_ of Russia in a clown suit—almost-union. Horrifying indeed.

While France and Britain continued to trade insults in the background, Denmark leaned over to take a look at the page America was still in the process of reading. Remarkably, the nation still hadn't looked up from the text—or not, considering his usual levels of obliviousness. "Wow, this is a really thin book . . . so, ' _The Tell-Tale Heart_ '? And in the middle of a World Meeting . . . you must be _really_ hardcore about this."

And that was the magic word. Well, not "that"—it was the word "hardcore". And it wasn't really magic, either, it's just—Screw it, let's just get on with this chapter already!

"Totally, dude!" America grinned, looking up briefly from the page to flash a big thumbs-up before returning to his reading—he seemed horrifying dedicated to the task of reading it. "It just helps me get into the Halloween spirit, y'know?"

. . . Which was followed by silence as America and Denmark chose to continue their reading instead of continuing the conversation.

Well. That not-really-magic wore off quickly.

"But it's _reading_! Lame-o!" Prussia cackled. But against his awesome will, he found himself joining America and Denmark to take a look for his awesome self, musing, "Then again, you _are_ a member of the Awesome Trio, so I suppose it can't be too lame . . . _Oh_."

"Speak for yourself!" Britain scoffed, not noticing Prussia's sudden change in demeanor as he saw what his fellow members of the Awesome Trio were already reading. "It sounds like the title of a bloody _romance_ novel."

"Well, looks like you got the 'bloody' part right," Prussia grimaced slightly, yet couldn't help being transfixed by the page.

"Ohonhonhon, that means it _must_ be good, mon ami!" France beamed, wearing an expression that could probably be described as "inappropriately enthusiastic". "I bet they simply can't take their eyes off each other—such is the power of l'amour."

"How much money?" Monaco piped up, already taking out a pen to record the amount.

"That's one bet you won't be winning, France," Denmark warned, not looking up from the book, "and the other guy's an 'old man', so . . ."

"Seems like they've decided to turn a blind eye, then," Britain remarked wryly, unaware of how strongly his statement affected the members of the Awesome Trio. Catching them gaping, he snapped, "Well, what're you wankers gawking at now?"

"Nein, it's nothing! Nothing at all," Prussia hastily—but still awesomely, as was the power of the awesome him—assured the nation, quickly returning his eyes to the book and neglecting to mention how Britain's statement coincided with his place on the page.

"Perhaps the characters have been engulfed in flaming passion, non?" France suggested, grinning deviously.

At this, Switzerland snatched Prussia's grappling hook in one hand, his sister in the other, and thus the ceiling of the World Meeting room was broken for the umpteenth time as they made their escape, Germany left swearing at all the paperwork he'd have to file for it—"So, I read the paperwork and all, but really . . . how did the ceiling break?" "I already told you, some _dummkopf_ shot a grappling hook through it!" " _Ri-i-ight_ , but seriously . . ."

"No way, bro!" America exclaimed, flipping the page back briefly so that he could point out a line of text and apparently oblivious to Switzerland's outburst, "Says right here, dude—'Passion there was none'—check it!"

"No, no," Romano declared, leaping to his feet in protest. "There is _no_ way we're looking at whatever crapola you're reading on that damn page, you burger bastard!"

At this, Spain put on a smile. " _Romano_ , what did we say about letting people down nicely?"

There was a pause. Then, grudgingly . . .

"Thank you for your damn offer, you bastard," Romano deadpanned; Spain smiled wider and prompted him to continue, "And I apologize for the damn inconvenience, but I must turn down whatever crapola you're reading on that damn page. Burger bastard."

Spain was practically glowing by the end of it. "There, you see? That wasn't very hard now, was it, Romano? And now everyone feels better, too!"

There was a collective facepalm so loud that even Switzerland and Liechtenstein could hear from, well, wherever they had fled to.

"Damn right they do," Romano huffed. "Those bastards in the damn book are probably screwing by now."

"There are better ways to phrase l'amour, mon ami," France sniffed.

"For the last time, I'm _not_ your friend, you pervert!" Romano snapped, aiming a kick at France's shins. Then, apparently deciding that one kick just wasn't enough, engaged in a full-on battle with him, shouting something about "damn porcupines".

"Hmm, the narrator _does_ seem to have a loose screw . . ." Denmark noted thoughtfully, oblivious to the struggle occurring in the background.

This prompted another quote from America as he flipped another page, offering the solemn explanation of "'Madmen know nothing', bro."

"Madmen? A loose screw?" Britain repeated, trying to figure out what they were talking about and listening to Romano beat the crapola out of the bloody frog—or, in other words, inflict some serious damage upon the frog's hair—at the same time. Finally, he demanded, "What the bloody hell are you reading?"

"I told you to take a look, dude!" America reminded him, but willingly passed over the book for the other nations to read through. "See?"

* * *

Several traumatizing minutes later, the other nations set down the book and simply stared at America, who did not recognize the looks of _is-what-I-just-read-seriously-something-that-came-from-your-country-you-burger-bastard?_ that he was on the receiving end of and instead continued to smile ignorantly at them. "So what do you think, dudes? Totally awesome, am I right?"

Silence. Then . . .

"How do you know any bloody words longer than the word ' _awesome_ '?" Britain guffawed, releasing a wave of protests from the other nations.

"Nein," Germany shivered, "Lies!"

"It was like reading the damn dictionary," Romano shuddered, still horrified by what he had seen. "Except without the damn pictures . . . such a bastard . . ."

Italy glanced around at the other nations still trying to forget what they had just read—personally, he'd been daydreaming about merenda the whole time, and therefore had no idea why everyone else seemed so shaken up—before asking hesitantly, "So . . . does this mean we can still get a gelato after this?"

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **As you may have guessed, the recap of the events in "America's Vegas 2.0" has been put off for a while longer, so in an effort to convey my deepest apologies in case you were looking out for it . . . _sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry-SORRY_! *sweatdrop***

 **As for this chapter, the nations are all dressed up for Halloween at this meeting, it seems . . . or are they just going through a cosplaying phase? Or is it not just a phase? *grins deviously***

 **"It was a typical World Meeting. China was venting to Panda over America's debt;": An exact quote from Chapter 1, "America's Elections"; I thought it would be fun to begin the chapter with the same words. Prussia has, of course, somehow found his awesome way into the meeting as well in order to grace the others with his awesome presence. ^J^ We've come a long way since then, haven't we? Actually, this should be Chapter 30 . . . probably should've gone on with the recap and made this Chapter 31 for Halloween, now that I think about it. *facepalm***

 **"Halloween": A holiday that is observed around the world *cough*HETALIA*cough* and has had multiple events in canon. *cough* _again-with-the-Hetalia_ *cough* It can be referred to using several different names, and is celebrated in many different ways—wearing costumes, guiding souls, and asking for candy, for example, at least according to Wikipedia—so I'm not going to list them all here. And, of course—also from Wikipedia; more specifically, an article titled " _Halloween_ (1978 film)"—" _Halloween_ is a 1978 American independent slasher film", a movie like so many other things that have made their way into the not-quite-definitions section of the notes. ^J^**

 **"The Tell-Tale Heart": A short story in the genres "Horror", "Short Story", and "Gothic Literature"—according to Wikipedia—that was written by Edgar Allan Poe. And if the name of the American author and the genres the story is under isn't enough warning as to why you probably shouldn't read it alone, in the dark, alone in the dark, anywhere near the dark, in a closed room, in your bed, alone in the dark in a closed bedroom, or pretty much any room without more than three other people you recognize inside . . . well, just try not to, please? It can be pretty scary. *shudder* The Language Arts teacher thought it would be a good idea to read it in class with an audio recording, but that narrator's voice was terrifying realistic and possibly traumatizing; note that there is a reason why it's under "Horror". A lot of Edgar Allan Poe's works can be read for free from varying sources, such as on Kindle or online, though print copies of his work are usually collections of multiple works of his instead of just one individual story like what America was using in this chapter.**

 **"Team Jacob": _Twilight_ , by Stephanie Meyer. Need I say more?**

 **"Indiana Jones": I personally don't know much about him, but according to Wikipedia, he "is the title character of the _Indiana Jones_ franchise", and America has been dressed to resemble his iconic look in "America's Vegas 2.0", which will probably be further explained in the recap.**

 **"Apocalypse": Well, Britain already defined it, so—Nah, kidding; I just wanted to clarify that its mentioning was a reference to Hetalia canon, in which Britain and France did, indeed have several false alarms of an impending apocalypse. Such as the two almost getting married.**

 **"Screw": If used to refer to someone as having a "loose screw", then it's suggesting that they are crazy, eccentric, et cetera. If used as a noun, then it refers to the simple machine; if used as a verb, it may refer to the act of utilizing such a simple machine. According to Urban Dictionary, it may also be used as a euphemism—in any tense of the word, including "screwy".**

 **"New Prussia" and "King of Prussia": New Prussia, Ontario (Canada); King of Prussia, Pennsylvania (United States).**

 **America: "See, Canadia? I totally told you that someone would cut you some slack eventually, bro!"**

 **Canada: *sighs* "I'm Canada . . ."**

 **"Merenda": An Italian word that the Wiktionary describes as a snack, usually in the afternoon.**

 **Hmm, I suppose this is about it for definitions. Probably. Possibly. ^J^ Either way, I think I've literally been typing up the notes on this chapter for at least two hours by now, so I should probably start wrapping this up!**

 **America: *waves sheet of paper* "Hey, somebody got a request?"**

 **Me: *takes paper* "Guest reviewer Darkkami, hmm? Accepted!"**

 **Canada: *sweatdrops* "But . . . think of the massive backlog . . ."**

 **Oh, yes, that—there's some backlog with requests, though hopefully some will be cleared up when the recap of "America's Vegas" comes around; not sure if the within-five-chapter thing still applies to some of the requests, but I'll try, I swear!**

 **Italy: "Ve, but fratello says that swearing is bad!"**

 **Canada: *stares at Romano* "Then why do you do it so much?"**

 **Romano: "I don't know, why do you give a damn, you . . . wait, who _are_ you?"**

 **Canada: "Maple . . ."**

 **America: *grins obliviously* "Stay awesome, dudes!"**


	31. America's Off the Infographic!

**A/N: This chapter does not fulfill any requests, as far as I'm aware. As for the recap, well, I spent the past two weeks trying to work on it, but so far I've only completed one part of it—since the recap will sort of flash between characters—and I want to be able to post it all at once, so I decided to hold off on that for now. But then I decided that if two weeks have passed, then I should at least have something to show for it, so voila! This chapter was born. ^J^**

 **Warning: This chapter contains various references, including one to a video game, which will hopefully be somewhat explained in the notes at the bottom, so feel free to read those first if you want some more background on this chapter. However, the concept around the infographic mentioned in the title having to do with the video game is also explained within this chapter, so you can probably read the chapter before reading the notes, too.**

 **Warning for the Warning: The notes at the bottom may also contain spoilers. You have been warned . . . twice!**

 **On a slighty-unrelated note, though, I hope that you all are safe and sound, wherever you are. The events that occurred last week were just horrible, and I hope none of you had to suffer from it.**

 **But now we turn to lighter things, because this fic is meant to put a smile on your face as you put one on mine. ^J^**

 **Oh yeah, and the disclaimer contains some spoilers too. *sweatdrop***

 **Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers, nor a cat-ear headband, nor The Sims 4.**

* * *

 **America's Off the Infographic!**

* * *

The World Meeting began as was to be expected: someone burst into the room. Except this time, that someone was a more-furious-than-usual Britain, clenching a colorful sheet of paper into a fist as he waved it through the air and stomped toward the other nations.

Needless to say, it was rather intimidating, and caused Italy to bolt behind Germany with an exclamation of "Ve, Britain looks angry! Like, _really_ angry!" and Romano to hide— _AHEM_ , it caused Romano to _seek refuge_ behind the tomato bastard because the Amazing Romano is not a damn bastard like _some_ nations and actually has some damn self-preservation instincts and—

" _Chigi_! Don't just stand there smiling you tomato bastard, do something, dammit!" Romano shrieked, pounding on Spain with his fists in an effort meant to spur the still-obliviously-smiling nation into action. "Damn Britain comes storming in and you _still_ don't give a damn . . ."

Meanwhile, Britain had already made his way to where another smiling but absolutely-terrifying nation was seated, holding out the paper in the other nation's face with a shout of "Russia! What the bloody hell is _this_?"

"Yeah, what the hell _is_ that?" Romano echoed, no longer scared now that he realized that Britain's anger wasn't directed at him—not that the sight of Britain had instilled him with a sense of raw panic to begin with, _nope_ , not at all! Heh, heh. After a pause, he added, "And could you please hold it out in our damn direction, tea bastard?"

"Fine, then," Britain huffed, obliging as he handed over the sheet. "See for yourself."

"See, Romano?" Spain beamed, "Manners _do_ help you get what you want, si? 'Please' and—Oh, what was the other one again?"

There was a collective facepalm.

"I'm not going to go around _thanking_ the damn bastard for handing me a damn piece of paper when I haven't even read it yet!"

Spain blinked innocently. "Well, why haven't you read it yet?"

"Because a damn tomato bastard is asking me too many questions," Romano deadpanned. "Now if you'll just shut up, then I can get to actually looking at it, thank you very much."

" _You said it_!" Spain celebrated, inciting more facepalms as the oblivious nation summoned happy flowers around him in his joyous—Wait, how _did_ he get those pink flowers to float around his head? What the heck? Well, apparently that's a normal occurrence, so moving along . . . "This is stupendous!"

"Yeah, yeah," Romano muttered dismissively, turning to read the paper. He blinked, then demanded, "What kind of crapola are you trying to pull, showing us a damn infographic of one of the burger bastard's games?"

Said burger bastard was currently and accurately gorging himself on an impressive several mounds of burgers that occupied both the table and seats around him, and looked up in response with his mouth still full, "Hmm? Whassat, breh?"

As Romano grudgingly passed over the paper for America to look—"Quit talking with your mouth full, you burger bastard! I can't understand a damn word you're saying." " _Wha-a-at_? But I'm the ommph-fmm Hero! A couple of mmh-grahh-fmm shouldn't stop me from mmh-hmm-wraauugghh-ing, bro!"—Monaco, Macau, and the Netherlands ogled at the mountains of fast food that surrounded the nation, already starting to plot their next moneymaking schemes. "Imagine . . . if each of those costs on average about four and a half of his dollars to purchase . . . all that money . . ."

"Oh, I remember this!" America exclaimed, finally pausing from eating to carry on a proper conversation. "It's totally about that game that everyone said was a total letdown but then all the updates and expansions came out and so some people think it's getting better but others still think it sucks, dude!"

. . . So much for a proper conversation.

Australia, who was looking over his shoulder, read, "'The Sims 4: Team Trick versus Team Treat'? Oi, is this about Halloween? That was almost a month ago!"

"Yup!" America confirmed. "Let's see . . . so, to 'treat' someone is friendly, and to 'trick' someone is not-so-friendly, and the two teams are totally competing three times to trick or treat as much as they can so that the winning team can decide the new Halloween items to add to the game, right bro?"

"Just skip to the section 'Total Tricks and Treats In-Game'," Britain replied.

Shrugging, the nations obeyed . . . and then their eyes widened in unison.

"They can carve _pumpkins_ now?" Australia exclaimed, gaping at the picture of a Sim, well, carving a pumpkin as he admitted, "I really have to keep up with these stuff packs . . . but there are just so _many_ . . ." at the same time as America did a double take, "Whoa, _Denmark_ is the country with the most tricks? But I really tried to outdo him . . . oh, well."

"Ja," Prussia agreed, solemnly and awesomely. "The awesome me did way more tricks than he did—because of my awesome levels of awesomeness, of course—but the statistic-y people said something totally lame, like 'I'm sorry, sir, but this "Prussia", as you say, is not currently a country'. Again, lame-o! Can you believe that they were so jealous of my awesomeness that they would do such a thing?"

Well, since he brought it up . . .

* * *

About a month ago in the month-ago month of October, Germany had been in the process of doing the laundry in a pink apron . . . and becoming rather frustrated about it. _Very_ frustrated. Having to do the laundry, that is—the pink apron was totally his own decision.

"Hmm . . . well, you're soft, kind of like cloth, so I think you can be put in the washing machine with all the other clothes . . ." he muttered, studying the cat-ear headband he held in his hand.

When the headband didn't seem to give him an answer, he demanded, "Mein Gott, quit judging me! It's not my fault that Bruder's off doing . . . whatever he does in the basement. I really don't want to know. But anyway, someone has to do the domestic tasks in the house while he's probably been staring at his reflection for several days straight!"

He paused, considering this.

"Actually, it really has been several days, and even he wouldn't be able to stare at himself for that long . . . unless he's trying to dig one of those tunnels through the basement wall again like in the movies so that Gilbird can be his personal postal service? I told him digging it with a spoon was a bad idea the first time!"

The cat-ear headband simply stared. Germany frowned.

"Hey, I told you not to look at me like that . . . I'm sure he's fine."

After being on the receiving end of the headband's judgmental looks for a while longer, Germany finally sighed, "Alright, I'll go check on him. But only to get you to stop staring! Now into the laundry basket you go, my fuzzy friend."

When he found his Bruder, Prussia and the rest of the Awesome Trio had brought three different computers into the basement—along with America's burger stash—and, upon questioning, found out that they'd been camped down there for the past week eating, sleeping, and playing The Sims 4, each trying to perform more tricks than the other. Where had they been using the bathroom all this time? Germany was scared to find out.

* * *

"Nein, we can't believe it at all," Germany deadpanned.

"I know!" Prussia nodded enthusiastically, "So that's what I said, but then they were all—"

"No, not _that_! Not that at all!" Britain interrupted. "What I was _referring_ to was that _Russia's_ the country with the most treats. There has to be some mistake! I mean, his face appears in the nightmares I have with Busby's Chair and Flying Mint Bunny and—You know what, that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that he's bloody _terrifying_. See?"

The other nations obediently turned to look at Russia, who was still smiling innocently at the rest of them in a cheerful, childlike grin as he finally spoke, "I had the most treats, so therefore I must be very nice and then you will want to become one—er, you will want to become friends, da?"

"Terrifying indeed, eh?" Canada remarked sarcastically. Not that anyone took much notice.

"And _you_ ," Britain continued, whirling on America, "How come _you're_ not mad that you weren't mentioned on the infographic?"

"Why would I be, dude?" America asked, reaching for another burger from the heap. "It totally just means that my awesomeness is _off the charts_!"

And so the nations at the World Meeting had reached at least three facepalms within ten minutes of starting.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **A minimum of three facepalms within ten minutes, eh? Think that might be a thing from now on?**

 **. . . Don't try it at home, at school, or anywhere else, though, because it _hurts_. I-I'm guessing, I mean. It's not like I tried it in person, ha-ha! Nope, n-no way! *sweatdrop***

 **"Chigi": The most amazing exclamation in the world that's totally not a cry for the tomato bastard to come save a certain someone, nope, not at all!**

 **"Happy flowers": One method of expressing joy, apparently.**

 **"Ommph-fmm" and "mmh-grahh-fmm": Uh . . . you can decide for these. ^J^**

 **"Mmh-hmm-wraauugghh-ing": Not sure either, other than that it's a present-tense verb and that it's totally awesome.**

 **"The Sims 4": The fourth generation of a popular people-simulation PC game; it has been criticized for its lack of certain features present in previous generations, but tries to compensate for this by releasing many free updates as well as many not-so-free stuff packs, expansions, and whatnot. ^J^ A valiant effort indeed. Around Halloween, they had a trick-or-treat challenge that is explained in the chapter, and released an infographic with statistics from it sometime this month, I think. There were three items, each with a "trick" version and a "treat" version, that the players competed for by trying to respectively "trick" or "treat" more than the other team treated or tricked. *cough*SPOILER*cough* "Team Treat" won every single challenge by at least 70%. Russia, the country with the most "treats", was 85% "treat", according to the infographic; meanwhile, Denmark had the most "tricks" with 52% "trick".**

 **. . . Well. I think that explanation might've been lost in translation. *facepalm* Four times! N-not that there was a first three . . . heh, heh.**

 **Video game titles are supposed to be italicized, but I thought it was a little disorienting when I tried it because of all the other italicized words in this chapter that are emphasized, so I kept it in plain text. ^J^**

 **"Cat-ear headband": A reference to Hetalia canon. In the April Fools' Day episode of Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5), Germany *cough*SPOILER*cough* wears a pair of cat ears. His conversation with the cat-ear headband is also sort of a reference to his stick-y friend in Season 1. ^J^**

 **"Off the charts": So awesome that it's unreal. Like Prussia and that . . . uh . . . dude with the stick-y sport on ice!**

 **Prussia: "I _am_ real, you know . . . but how can I argue with the fact that I'm awesome?"**

 **Dude with the Stick-y Sport on Ice: *sweatdrops* "I'm Canada . . ."**

 **Kumajiro: "Who?"**

 **Canada: " _Canada_! The one who likes hockey?"**

 **Germany: *looks up* " _You're_ the one who's been hitting mein stick-y friend in the face with all the six-ounce solid pieces of vulcanized black rubber?"**

 **Canada: *rapidly backpedals* "Nope, not at all! No way, eh?"**

 **"Six-ounce solid pieces of vulcanized black rubber": According to Wikipedia, that is what makes up a hockey puck. Also, they are apparently three inches in diameter and one inch thick. I don't think I've seen one in person before, though—the closest I've come to that is probably air hockey.**

 **The next chapter will hopefully fulfill the request of reviewer Elricgurl, at the very least, which is fortunate enough to escape the backlog because *cough*SPOILER*cough* it's a seasonal one about—**

 **Hungary: *waves paper around wildly* "Over here! I've got it!"**

 **Me: "The infographic?"**

 **Hungary: "No, even better— _sixty_ favorites!"**

 **Me: ". . . Excuse me for a sec."**

 **I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, too! Now I just have to ensure that the others are up to par as well. *stresses profusely* ^J^**

 **Prussia: "Stay awesome, keseses—West, quit scaring that guy with the bear! It's even freaking the awesome me out! I mean, not that the awesome me _gets_ freaked out in the first place . . ."**

 **And now I am free to go spazz out. Kinda funny how the updates this November have so far both been for Halloween though, huh? And how the next chapter is going to stick with the trend of hol—**

 **Crowd of Nations: *tackles author* "No. More. _SPOILERS_!"**

 **Germany: *perks up* "Did someone say 'stick' again?"**


	32. America's Day of—Wait, What IS it About?

**A/N: As usual, I'm late when it comes to posting chapters about holidays . . . *sweatdrop* And it also feels kind of weird to be posting on a weekday, but I finished this chapter and thought I'd post it anyhow because it's kind of short. Ish. I really don't know.**

 **Germany: *facepalms* "Mein Gott, just get on with it already!"**

 **Me: "Okay, okay! Notes are at the bottom!"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

 **America's Day of—Wait, What IS it About?: Requested by reviewer Elricgurl**

* * *

When the other nations arrived at America's house, it took longer than usual for said nation to respond—that they had enough time to actually _ring_ the doorbell for once was impressive in itself.

But when the door finally opened, America seemed unusually apologetic, even greeting them with, "I'm really sorry about the delay, eh? It's just that my brother, well . . ."

"Cut the crapola and let us in already, burger bastard. It's cold out here!" Romano cut in, complaining. As an afterthought, he added, "And who's this damn brother you're talking about, anyway?"

America simply stared. Then, after a pause, he shouted, "I'm Canada!" and abruptly slammed the door shut in their faces.

"Dammit, he locked the damn door behind him, that . . . that, uh . . . that damn whatever-the-crapola-he-damn-said bastard," Romano sulked.

"Ve, fratello, that last part was almost every other word," Italy exclaimed cheerily. "I think that might be a new record!"

There was a collective facepalm, with several nations staring at Italy in bewilderment/embarrassment/disgruntlement/confusion/obliviousness/absolute-and-overwhelming-horror. But that last part was only a very-much-traumatized Germany, who started to mutter quickly and incoherently to himself with his mind on overload.

It was then that this so-called "Canada" decided to reopen the door, sheepishly continuing to apologize, "Sorry about that . . . but America kind of put me on edge today, eh?"

"The bloody wanker puts me on edge every day," Britain muttered.

"Oh," Canada sweatdropped. "Er . . . sorry? Uh, why don't you guys come on in, eh?"

* * *

Several minutes later, the nations had helped Canada set up the table—a long and arduous procedure, as they would for some reason forget what they were doing; it also didn't help that they never seemed to hear Canada when he shouted at them to get back on task—and yet there was still no sign of his brother.

"I've seen the burger bastard try being fashionably late before, but this is just ridiculous," Romano huffed. "What kind of crapola is he even _doing_ right now?"

"Perhaps one with fabulous hair," France suggested . . . suggestively, "but not quite as fabulous as mine, of course."

Before Britain could interrupt and start another fight—the first had occurred at the table involving how to set out the forks, and included phrases like "No way, Angleterre! The forks should go—" "If I don't have my bloody way, they will be _going_ up yours, frog!" "Your other way sounds pretty bloody as well, aru . . . this would be so much easier if we all used chopsticks . . ." "Hai."—Canada replied anxiously, "Actually, well . . . you should probably see for yourselves."

Curiously, the other nations obediently followed after Canada as he walked out of the kitchen, making his way to a door that most of them were _very_ familiar with. Frowning, Britain said, "Wait a tic, isn't this the room that—"

" _Wah_! This is the room that I got traumatized in!" Italy exclaimed, leaping behind Germany and Japan for safety precau—Well, actually, he's quite comfortable with admitting that he was totally terrified, so no need for euphemisms there!

"Dammit, tomato bastard!" Romano fumed, kicking Spai— _AHEM_ , he kicked the _tomato bastard_ in the shins for emphasis. "Why do you have to be such a damn pervert and much such damn creepy videos, eh, you bastard? Thinking you can go around and give everyone a mind fuc—"

Well, never mind that previous statement, then! Euphemisms probably would have helped a lot in that conversation, seeing how Romano proceeded to go on a rant that rivaled if not surpassed those of Britain in both length and use of curse words. And not the magical kind found in the Magic Trio's spell books. For the most part.

Finally, Prussia, who hadn't seen the room before and was starting to become desperate to find out what was inside, interrupted, "Yeah, yeah. Now can we be awesome for a sec—well, _I'm_ awesome all the time, but you know what I mean—and open the door already?"

Romano continued cussing under his breath, but Canada obligingly put a hand on the doorknob, "Alright . . . but prepare yourselves first, eh? What you might see inside could be . . . well . . ."

He swiftly threw the door open, releasing a huge mass of rainbows and giant pink marshmallow goop and flamingos and cotton candy . . . . No, not really. This was the TV room, where America could watch shows or movies whenever he felt like it. And although there were bags of jumbo marshmallows, cotton candy, and other junk food and wrappers piled up high on the seats to the point where they couldn't tell where they were supposed to sit, none of it came flying out the door to greet them.

But what they _were_ met with was the sound of an air horn, a whistle, and—Was that the sound of a grappling hook crashing through the ceiling? Canada cringed, already imagining the cost it would take to get that fixed. The other nations, however, had virtually all temporarily lost their sense of hearing by that point. That is, all of them except . . .

"Wow, that sounded _awesome_!" Denmark whooped, eagerly going into the room to examine the air horn, which America was still holding. "Can I give it a try?"

"Only if the awesome me gets a try, too," Prussia declared, "and I want to go first!"

"Why go first when we can all go together, bros?" America asked, spitting out the whistle so that he could pull ou—Where did he get two _more_ air horns from? "Alright, you dudes ready?"

The other nations' eyes widened in horror, and they took their hands off their ears to frantically make _don't-you-dare_ motions as they vehemently objected, " _No-no-no-no-NO_ —"

Big mistake, as the sound of three air horns simultaneously being set off caused them to yelp as they scrambled to muffle it. Canada quickly slammed the door shut. Despite spending so much time with his brother, even he wasn't used to that level of earsplitting pai— _AHEM_ , he still wasn't used to that level of _awesomeness_.

"Bloody hell, what _was_ that?" Britain asked.

"American Thanksgiving," Canada said grimly. "He celebrates his a month after I celebrate mine. When I asked him what exactly he celebrated on it, he started talking about turkey and football. But mostly footba—Hey, what're you doing?"

Canada had interrupted himself in alarm upon seeing the other nations reaching for the door again.

"There's only supposed to be one bloody kind of football, and it's the kind that's played in cleats!" Britain proclaimed.

"Ve, but I think just about all outdoor sports are played with cleats . . ." Italy pointed out, but by then Britain and several other nations had already marched back inside the room with their sleeves rolled up, leaving only him and Canada sweatdropping outside. "So . . . can we eat dinner now?"

From inside the room, Canada could faintly hear his brother's calls of "Perestroika! _Perestroika_! Agh, why isn't it working, dude?"

But instead, he merely smiled and nodded, "Yeah, let's go do that, eh?"

"Yay! But use a different smile, will you? Ve, your sadistic side is really showing through on that one you have on right now . . . _scary_!"

Oh. Oops.

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **For some reason, I've come across Canada acting sort of sadistic towards his brother in several Hetalia fics. In a mildly humorous manner, of course. So I just _had_ to add that in somewhere!**

 **Prussia: "Wow, that sounds compulsive. Are you sure _you're_ not a sadistic?"**

 **Me: *spawns dark aura* "What. Did. You. Say?"**

 **Prussia: "Ack! Not you, too!"**

 **Reviewer Elricgurl requested a Thanksgiving chapter. And, of course, I thought I'd make America preoccupied with American football . . . but then I started typing it and I have no idea what exactly happened from there. *sweatdrop***

 **"Doing": A generally innocent-enough term that may also occasionally be used as a euphemism for, well, intercourse. And not the trading kind. On a side note, the "Nonintercourse Act" involving US trade with Britain and France is one of the key terms for the Social Studies unit I'm currently in. Unfortunately for myself, I almost burst out laughing when I read it on the list . . . I should really find some other things to laugh at, shouldn't I? *sweatdrop* Dang it, two sweatdrops in this chapter's notes already, and not even the second definition thing-y yet! Speaking of which . . .**

 **"American Thanksgiving": A national holiday that typically occurs on the last Thursday of November in the US. It is unclear why turkey—the bird, not the nation—is usually part of these meals, however, or if it was actually part of the "First Thanksgiving" feast from the 1600s—even the internet seems to have different views on that. However, turkey is not a necessity in these meals—I had pasta! ^J^—and although Thanksgiving is a harvest festival of sorts, it seems like it's being overshadowed by the American football events held around the same time, anyhow. *sweatdrop* Canada also has a Thanksgiving typically held on the second Monday of October that celebrates different events than American Thanksgiving. Various other places have harvest festivals and related celebrations as well. ^J^**

 **"Air horn": Something that various opinionated internet sources seem to view as the paragon of all loud noise sources that can fit in one's hand, some seemingly even ranting about th—**

 **Britain: *stomping past* "That bloody noise! Argh, it stings . . . those wankers are really going to regret it if they think they can get away with such a blasted stunt . . ."**

 **Me: "Plotting revenge already?"**

 **Britain: *shouting loudly* "NO, I DON'T WANT TO ORDER YOUR CONFETTI!"**

 **Me: "Still suffering from the hearing loss, I see. Don't worry, it'll wear off. Probably."**

 **Britain: "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I DON'T CARE TO COUGH WALLABIES!"**

 **"Cleats": Although it has other definitions, the North American term may refer to athletic shoes that are cleated in order to help prevent slipping in outdoor sports, according to the internet. It also says that such shoes are "typically used in playing football", so for its own sake, I would hope that it's referencing the kind of football in which the balls are actually round and are actually passed more often by foot than by hand.**

 **"Perestroika": It has a definition of its own, but its usage by America is a reference to an episode of Gakuen Hetalia in Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5) when Russia sort of . . . tries to resolve things his way. ^J^**

 **As for the recap of "America's Vegas 2.0", that's been put off for now because I haven't made much progress on it other than completing one scene in it . . . maybe I'll have to try out that "Polls" feature to see how you guys want to proceed with that matter. If I do, then I'll be sure to alert you about the existence of such a poll in the next chapter, but in any case, the next chapter probably won't be the recap. What WILL the next chapter be? Well—**

 **Germany: "Gott im Himmel, we said NO SPOILERS!"**

 **Me: "Actually . . . I don't really know what the next chapter will be about, so you don't have to worry about that."**

 **Group of Nations: "WHAT?"**

 **Me: *sweatdrops* "Well, the recap SHOULD cover quite some requests when it gets posted, but then there's the question as to HOW it's going to be posted, and since I'm not entirely sure which requests will not be covered by it, well . . ."**

 **Germany: *facepalms* "Women these days."**

 **Me: "Hey! Don't worry, the next chapter will still be posted—just as a sort of surprise, you can think of it as! And the recap, too!"**

 **As for requests, in response to the one from reviewer Rebecca Frost, it sounds similar to another one you requested in _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ , and since it seems qualified to be able to fit into either fic, you can pick which one you'd like to see it posted in! But there will, of course, be a twist . . . *grins deviously***

 **And in response to reviewer jessio, although it's not explicitly requested . . . CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. More Australia down the road!**

 **Speaking of _How I Cracked Your Fanfic_ , though, it seems like I haven't updated that in . . . approximately one and a half months. *facepalm* Dang it, I'm behind! I've been working on a new chapter for it, but hadn't realized that it was taking so long . . . *sweatdrop* I'm almost done, though, so it'll probably be posted by or around sometime this weekend.**

 **Well, that's about it, I think. I'm still looking forward to testing out the "Polls" feature, and not just for the matter of the recap, so I'll alert you guys when I have that up and running, if so. But anyway, I hope that your week has been going by pleasantly enough, and that you have enjoyed this mid-week update. ^J^ Prussia?**

 **Prussia: "Kesesese, stay awesome!"**


	33. America's Other Day of Poultry and F—

**A/N: You guys probably already know about how sorry I am for not having updated this in a while, but I must emphasize that I'M SO. FREAKING. SORRY. And the worse part is, this time it's less due to the Almighty Writer's Block but more because of general lack of humor and willpower. *facepalms***

 **But since two certain events coincided this year (February 8th, 2016; like, five days ago, but I wrote super slow so . . . *sweatdrops*) I HAD to do SOMETHING for it on this fic (even if this chapter is still pretty short), considering how one event is a large part of American culture (probably), and the other, well . . .**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own neither Hetalia: Axis Powers, KFC, the Super Bowl (I don't even know how I COULD own that), nor firecrackers of any sort.**

* * *

 **America's Other Day of Poultry and F—Fine, I won't say the word!**

* * *

China was in a good mood.

Due to the time difference in the Western hemisphere, he'd spent his morning watching a televised marathon of performances ranging from magic tricks to singing to people dressed in spandex—especially the people dressed in spandex—airing from China. Actually, he wasn't quite sure whether or not the hotel television was supposed to receive those channels in the first place, but all he'd had to do was click the power button on the remote and _PRESTO_! So what if he wasn't quite sure how that had happened or if it was legal? It was there and it was already playing, so he'd watched it.

When that finished around lunch, he had gone out for a "walk" and literally painted the town red. Well, at least the Chinatown he had somehow spawned inside his hotel room. He wasn't quite sure how that had happened or if it was legal, either. Oh! But he'd found Hong Kong in there, too, and after feasting for lunch, they'd gone shopping together and cheerily bought one or twenty or fifty or so crates of firecrackers and other explosives. Those, he knew, _were_ highly illeg— _AHEM_ , highly illegitimate . . . no, highly illegible . . . er, highly . . .

"Okay, fine, they're highly illegal," China finally admitted to Panda, waving dismissively, "But everyone has their pyromaniacal moments, right?"

Panda—although this conversation was a fresh change from the usual ranting about money—had, of course, already zoned out by this point anyhow. When China noticed this after five more minutes of venting, he sighed and decided that he might as well find something else to pass the time before the meeting started. Actually, it was supposed to have started almost an hour ago, but a certain burger-eating nation had yet to appear. So, Germany had grudgingly declared that they would wait for him to arrive before starting the meeting and was now awkwardly standing off to the side as the Italy brothers made a pot of pasta, two events that he swore were totally unrelat—

* * *

"Why don't you just make it in your own time?" Germany asked Italy for the umpteenth time.

"Ve, because it's so much more fun to make pasta with friends!" Italy replied a bit too hurriedly—in reality he was just worried that his kitchen was now haunted by the spirit of the pasta he had failed to eat. It was an incredibly reasonable concern!

After the traumatic destroying of a certain pot of pasta in a certain grocery store a certain amount of chapters ago, Italy had been following Germany around—like usual—begging him to make another pot of pasta—also fairly usual—in order to replace the one that had been so brutally torn away from him. Germany was proud to say that he had so far been able to deny permission for Italy to do so during the World Meeting.

"But I thought you said that that pot of pasta was irreplaceable," Germany reminded him sternly.

" _That's why we have to honor its damn memory by making another one, potato bastard_!"

However, it was only on that day that Romano stepped into the picture . . . and he could be a tad bit intimidating when he got especially hangry. So, eventually . . .

* * *

"Really, I still don't get how you found a stove just sitting around in the corner of the meeting room," Germany muttered.

Oh, don't we all.

Frowning, China looked away from the cooking in the corner in search of something else to do—the pasta was almost done, anyway—and suddenly found himself making accidental eye contact with the obvious answer.

"Macau, happy New Year! So, what're we betting on today? I'll bet you one point three trillion dollars that it has to do with—"

"America," Macau helpfully finished.

"—Oh, so you already know," China deflated. After a pause, he tried again, "How about—"

"You were going to suggest the Lunar New Year, otherwise known as Chinese New Year, otherwise known as the Spring Festival, and so on," Monaco deadpanned.

". . . That is true," China confirmed, deciding that he should probably be wagering a lot less. Like maybe a hundred and fifty yuan or so. "I can still bet against you on that, right?"

* * *

"Sorry, dudes! That line totally took longer than usual," America said as he strolled into the World Meeting, a teetering heap of burgers casually balanced on his arm. With his other hand he was sipping on a fountain drink, but that went mostly unnoticed because most of the nations were too busy trying to scramble away from the danger zone in case the burgers fell and buried them alive. Setting the burgers safely down on the table—causing the nations to let out a sigh of relief—America continued sipping his soda as he gave a satisfied nod at the pile. "Yeah, that should do it."

Australia warily returned to his seat, but caused a mini avalanche of burgers when he pulled out his chair and leapt back, immediately resolving to stand for the rest of the meeting.

"I don't know how, but it seems like there are somehow _more_ than usual," France noted with a shudder.

"Well of course it's more than usual, dude!" America exclaimed, "After all, you all know what day it is."

"Sunday?" Britain asked, raising his impressive eyebrows.

"Yes! And no," America replied. He straightened, dramatically setting down his soda and announcing, "Today is totally a day of celebration, man! It's when we get all the excuse we need to pig out on fast food and takeout and all that awesome junk."

". . . But isn't that kind of unhealthy for you, America?" Australia sweatdropped.

"And isn't that kind of _daily_ for you?" Canada added pointedly. Not that anyone took notice.

"Yes, today is a day of feasting!" China agreed enthusiastically, not paying attention to Latvia and Canada's comments, "It's a day where we all come together as a family!"

"See? China gets it!" America grinned. "It's when you and everyone you know spend all your time in front of the TV and leaving weirdly-shaped grease stains on the couch from all your KFC!"

"It's a day of seeing red everywhere!" said China with glee.

"A day of games, music, and the best commercials of the year!" said America with a whoop.

"A day of giving in to our pyromaniacal tendencies!"

"A day of minding the predictions of a flock of hungry puppies as we watch the battle unfold!"

"A day of—Wait, did you say 'battle'?" China cut himself off with a sweatdrop. "Why would there be a battle on—"

" _YEAH, IT'S FINALLY THE SUPER BOWL, DUDE_!"

Needless to say, China excused himself to go sulk in a corner next to France, who had gone there sometime earlier to weep over fast food's path to world domination.

"We told you he wouldn't know what day it is," Macau smiled, watching as America proceeded to fist-pump excitedly in the background.

"Hence I believe you now owe us a hundred and fifty yuan or so," Monaco finished, already holding her hand out for the money. "As the saying goes . . . 'man up and pay up'."

Macau turned to simply stare at her.

". . . You've been spending too much time with Japan."

* * *

Sometime much later, America sat in front of the TV several minutes after the actual game had ended, a half-eaten box of fried chicken—the other hundred-something boxes that he'd already gone through were scattered across the couch—in his hands as he stared at the screen.

"Well, whaddaya know. The puppy predictor actually got it," he blinked. Reaching back into the box, he snorted, "Football, am I right?"

"That's. Not. _FOOTBALL_!"

"What the heck? Where did you guys come from? N-n-no, dudes, w-wait! _Not the chicken_!"

* * *

 **Notes on this Chapter:**

 **I'm sorry if I have failed you, China.**

 **China: *sulking in corner* "Of course you should be!"**

 **Anyway, on to kind-of-sort-of-okay-maybe-not-really definitions!**

 **"The traumatic destroying of a certain pot of pasta in a certain grocery store a certain amount of chapters ago": "America's Vegas 2.0" (Chapters 27, 28, and 29). I'm not sure where exactly, but it's in there!**

 **"Like maybe a hundred and fifty yuan or so.": Currently, according to the first thing that popped up when Googling (yep, it's a verb ^J^) "yuan to dollars converter", that would be 22.96 US dollars (because according to it, "1 Chinese Yuan equals 0.15 US Dollar", a number that I'm pretty sure was rounded). But since I still have the conversion calculator open, let's see what 150 yuan would be in some other currencies . . . Australian Dollar: 32.31. British Pound: 15.83. coin: 0.05892. (I didn't know those existed until just now. COOL.) Canadian Dollar: 31.80. Euro: 20.40. Greek Dr—Huh, that one's not popping up. But anyway, you could always look into it further if you'd like, since there are too many currencies for me to cover and that would probably bring this chapter to somewhere WAY over . . . however many words there usually are in one of these chapters. ^J^**

 **"KFC": Stands for "Kentucky Fried Chicken", the name of an international fast food chain restaurant that was founded and headquartered in the US. According to Wikipedia, it's also both the first Western restaurant chain to open in China (in 1987) and the most popular fast food restaurant chain in China.**

 **China: *perks up* "Did you say something about KFC?"**

 **"Seeing red": China doesn't seem to be aware of this when he says it, but other than literally seeing the color red, this phrase can also be used as an idiom referring to when someone is angered. (There is a fairly helpful Urban Dictionary entry on this that explains how the phrase is related to the red flag-cape-fabric-thing-y in bullfighting. Thank you, Urban Dictionary! ^J^)**

 **"A day of games, music, and the best commercials of the year!": Here, "games" is referring to the actual footb— . . . er . . . ACTIVITY; "music" is referring to the Super Bowl's half time show, since it is traditionally obligated to be entertaining; "the best commercials of the year" refers to how for various reasons that I won't go too much into, the Super Bowl DOES traditionally have pretty much "the best commercials of the year". (See the Wikipedia page—yes, this IS an actual Wikipedia page, at least it currently is—titled "Super Bowl commercials" if you want to read more into it.)**

 **"The predictions of a flock of hungry puppies" and "the puppy predictor actually got it": The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon has a "puppy predictor" for the Super Bowl, in which several bowls of the same food are set out at the bottom of a downward slope and labeled for the teams competing. Behind a clear door at the top of the slope, a group of golden retriever puppies eagerly wait until they are released and amble down the ramp toward the food. The team represented by the bowl that receives the most puppies is declared as the team the puppies predict to win.**

 **Hungary: *walks in with papers* "Hey, wasn't there a request that had to do with puppy—"**

 **Me: *covers mouth* "SHH! Oh wait, you're right . . . dang it, that was my chance, wasn't it?"**

 **Hungary: *sympathetically pats head* "Don't worry, you'll get another one someday."**

 **"Man up and pay up": Japan, Hetalia: Beautiful World (Season 5). *claps and nods head sagely***

 **Back to China, though, I didn't use "aru" in this chapter because I was too lazy. *sweatdrops* I know it's only used by China when he's speaking Japanese, but I think it's also pretty endearing and I'm sorry if you missed it—Wait. New idea.**

 **Okay, so you know how I mentioned the "Polls" feature some time ago? Well, maybe this matter of "aru" can be used to test it out. The poll will be displayed on my profile, so you can cast your vote there!**

 **Whatever results there are will probably be reflected in the next chapter, which will hopefully not have such a long wait. *sweatdrops again* Prussia, outro please!**

 **Prussia: "Well, since you asked so—Wait, what's with the frying pan? What did I do this time? N-no, don't come any closer with that thing! NO-O-O-O!"**

 **Hungary: *smiles innocently* "Stay sweet!"**


End file.
